THE HERMIT HUNTER
OF THE WILDS.
BY
GORDON STABLES.
UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA LIBRARY
X030826045



THE GALIGNANI LIBRARY
Engl. & Americ. Books,
PARIS, 224, rue de Rivoli
NICE, 16, Quai Masséna
LIBRARY OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA
UNIVERSITY
1819
OF VIRGINIA
PRESENTED BY
PAUL B. VICTORIUS





M
300



THE HERMIT HUNTER OF THE WILDS.
Church Periodical Club
St. Pauls Mission
Millis, Massachusett
Church Periodical Club
St. Pauls Mission
Minis, Massachusetts





THE
HERMIT HUNTER OF THE WILDS.
BY
GORDON STABLES,
C.M., M.D., R.N.,
Author of "The Cruise of the Snowbird;" "Wild Life in the Land of the Giants;"
"From Squire to Squatter;" "From Pole to Pole;" "On Special Service;" &c.
WITH FOUR ORIGINAL ILLUSTRATIONS.
Lucem Libris
Disseminamus
VERSITY
LONDON:
BLACKIE & SON, 49 & 50 OLD BAILEY, E.C.
GLASGOW, EDINBURGH, AND DUBLIN,
418597


PZ
7
.S775H
1889
421329
GIFT
OCT 5 45


CONTENTS.
CHAP.
I. By the Firelight,
·
II. "It was on just such a night as this, sister,”
III. "The fearfulness of our situation can hardly be
realized,"
IV. Among the Woods of Craigielea,
V. "The whole world is full of changes,"
VI. "Run, run!" cried Tom; "the man must not die
yet!"
VII. "Here hangs his brother's scalp,"
Page
17
28
42
53
69
65
198
78
VIII. "Never before had Tom experienced such a feel-
ing of awful danger,"
89
IX. "The whole sea of mist turned to clouds of
mingled gold and crimson,"
101
X. "In the forests strange shrieks and sounds were
heard,"
111
•
·
•
XI. "The trees went down before it like hay before
the mower's scythe,"
121
XII. "A shower of poisoned darts fell pattering on
the stockade,"
132
XIII. The dying Ayah tells of Bernard,
142
XIV. "Filled with gold doubloons- Sirr, are ye listen-
ing?"
153
·


vi
CHAP.
CONTENTS.
Page
XV. "Next instant the ship was struck and staved," 163
XVI. "A vast green and flowery valley surrounded by
romantic hills,"
174
XVII. Strange Life on the beautiful Island,
185
XVIII. "He was convinced now he had seen a spectre
and nothing else,"
197
""
XIX. 'Under the grave you dug are gold and precious
stones,"
205
XX. "O, Bernard, it is your father's ship!"
214


ILLUSTRATIONS.
IN PERIL OF LIGHTNING AND FLOOD, .
Page
Frontis. 131
.
TOM MEETS A PUMA ON THE MOUNTAIN-PATH,
"HEAH I IS, SAH," SAID GINGER BRANDY,
"YOU HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR," SAID TOM, .
•
102
155
. 206






THE HERMIT HUNTER OF THE WILDS.
CHAPTER I.
BY THE FIRELIGHT.
OMMY TALISKER was probably one of
the most unassuming boys that ever
lived. At all events everybody said so.
And this is equivalent to stating that the boy's
general behaviour gave him a character for
modesty.
He was the youngest of a family of five; the
eldest being his only sister, and she, like her
mother, made a good deal of Tommy, and thought
a good deal about him too in certain ways.
"I don't think," said Tommy's father to Tommy's
mother one evening as they all sat round the par-
lour hearth; "I don't think we'll ever be able to
make much of Tommy."
Perhaps Tommy's father was at present merely
speaking for speaking's sake; for there had been
general silence for a short time previously, broken
only by the sound of mother's knitting-wires, the


10
GAZING INTO THE FIRE.
crackle of uncle's newspaper as he turned it, and
the howthering of the wind round the old farm-
house.
Tommy's mother looked at Tommy, and heaved
a little bit of a sigh, for she was very much given
to taking everything for granted that her hus-
band said.
But Tommy's sister, who always sat in the
left-hand corner of the fireside, with Tommy
squatting on a footstool right in front of her,
drew the lad's head closer to her knee, and
smoothed his white brow and his yellow hair.
Tommy took no notice of anything or any-
body, but continued to gaze into the fire. That
fire was well worth looking at, though I am not
at all sure that Tommy saw it. It was a fire that
made one drowsily contented and happy to sit
by,—a comfort-giving, companionable sort of a fire.
Built on the low hearth, with huge logs of wood
sawn from the trunk of a poplar-tree that had
succumbed to a summer squall, logs sawn from
the roots of a sturdy old pine-tree that had
weathered many and many a gale, and logs sawn
from the withered limbs of a singularly gnarled
and ancient pippin-tree that had grown and
flourished in the orchard ever since this farmer's
father was a boy. There were huge lumps of
coals there also, and a wall round the whole of
dark-brown peats, hard enough to have cut and
chiselled the hull of a toy yacht from.


REVERIE.
11
It is not to be wondered at that Tommy took
no notice of the somewhat commonplace talk
that went on around him; he was listening to a
conversation that was being carried on in the
fire between the blazing wood and the coals and
the peat.
"You have no idea, my friends," said the poplar
log, after emitting a hissing jet of steam by way
of drawing attention and commanding silence-
"you have no idea what a stately and beautiful
tree I was when in my prime. I and my fellows,
who were all alive and well when I heard from
them last, were the tallest and most gracefully-
waving trees in the country-side. Poets and
artists, and clever people generally, used to say
we gave quite a character to the landscape. We
knew we were very beautiful, because the broad
winding river went through the
the meadow
where we stood, and all day long we could see
our faces therein. O, we were very beautiful!
I do assure you. The seasons thought so, and
every one of them did something for us. Spring
came first, as soon as she had fastened the downy
buds on the waving willows; placed wee crimson-
topped anemones on the hazel boughs-five to
each nodding catkin; scattered the burgeons
over the hawthorn hedges; tasselled the larches
with vermilion and green; adorned the rocks with
lichen and moss; brought early daisies to the
meadow-lands, the gold of the celandine to the


12
WHAT THE POPLAR SAID.
banks of the streamlets, and the silver of a thou-
sand white starry buttercups to float on the
ponds; breathed through the woods and awak-
ened the birds to light, love, and song; led the
bee to the crocus, the butterfly to the primrose;
awakened even the drowsy dormouse and the
shivering hedgehog from their long winter's
slumber, to peep hungrily from their holes and
wearily wonder where food could be found.
Then Spring came to us. Spring came and kissed
us, and we responded with green-yellow leaves
to her balmy caress. Ah, the sun's rays looked
not half so golden anywhere else, as seen through
our glancing quivering foliage. We raised our
heads so high in air, that the larks seemed to
sing to us alone, and the very clouds told us
their secrets.
"But Summer came next and changed our leaves
to a darker, sturdier green. And she brought us
birds. The rooks themselves used to rest and sway
on our topmost branches, lower down the black-
bibbed sparrows built; in our hollows the star-
lings laid their eggs of pearl, while even the
blackbird had her nest among the ivy that draped
our shapely stems.
"We were things of beauty even when winds
of Autumn blew; and Winter himself must clothe
our leafless limbs with its silvery hoar-frost, till
every branch and twiglet looked like radiant
coral against the deep blue of the cloudless sky."


THE PINE-TREE ROOT.
13
"Hush! hush!" cried the pine-tree root. "Dost
thou well, O poplar-tree log, to boast thus of thy
beauty and stateliness? I lived on the mountain
brow not far off. I marked your rise and fall.
Out upon your beauty! Where was your strength?
To me thou wert but as a sapling, or a willow withe
bending in the summer air. But my strength
was as the strength of nations. On the hill yonder
I flourished for hundreds of years; my foot was
on the rocks, my dark head swept the clouds,
my brown stem was a landmark for sailors far
at sea. In the plains below I saw the seasons
come and go. Houses were built, and in time be-
came ruins; children were born, grew up, grew
old and died, but I changed not. The wild birds
of the air, of the rock, and the eyrie were my
friends-the eagle, the osprey, the hawk, and
curlew. The deer and the roe bounded swiftly
past me, the timid coney and the hare found
shelter near me. I have battled with a thousand
gales; thunders rolled and lightnings flashed
around me, and left me unscathed. I stood there
as heroes stand when the battle rages fiercest,
and my weird black fingers seemed to direct the
hurricane wind. I was the spirit of the storm.
"And I too had beauty, an arboreal beauty that
few trees can lay claim to; whether in autumn
with the crimson heather all around me, in sum-
mer with the last red rays of sunset lingering in
my foliage, or in winter itself-my branches sil-


14
THE GNARLED PIPPIN LOG.
houetted against the green of a frosty sky. But
I fell at last. We all must fall, and age had
weakened my roots. But I fell as giants fall,
amidst the roar of the elements and chaos of
strife. The skies wept over my bier, rain clouds
were my pall, and the wild winds shrieked my
dirge."
There was silence in the fire for some little
time after the pine log had finished speaking,
and Tommy thought the conversation had ceased;
but presently a voice, soft and musical as summer
winds in the linden-tree, came from the gnarled
pippin log:
In
"O men of pride and war!" said the voice, "I
envy neither of you. Mine was a life of peace
and true beauty; and had I my days to live over
again, I would not have them otherwise. My
home was in the orchard, and the seasons were
good to me too, and all things loved me.
spring-time no bride was ever arrayed as I was;
the very rustics that passed along the roads used
to stop their horses to gaze at me in open-mouthed
admiration. Then all the bees loved me, and all
the birds sang to me, and the westling winds
made dreamy music in my foliage. Lovers sat
on the seat beneath my spreading branches, when
the gloaming star was in the east, and told their
tales of love heedless that I heard them. In sum-
mer merry children played near me and swung
from my boughs, and in autumn and even winter


WHAT THE PEAT SAID.
15
many a family showered blessings on the good
old pippin-tree. 'Peace, my friends, hath its vic-
tories not less renowned than war.
292
"O dear me!" sighed a smouldering peat, "how
humble I should feel in such company. I really
have nothing to say and nothing to tell, for my
life, if life it could be called, was spent on a lone-
some moor; true, the heath bloomed beautiful
there in autumn, but the wintry winds that
swept across the shelterless plain had a dreary
song to sing. The will o' the wisp was a friend
of mine, and an aged white-haired witch, that at
the dead hours of moonlight nights used to come
groaning past me, culling strange herbs, and using
incantations that I shudder to hear. There were
many strange creatures besides the witch that
came to the moor where I dwelt; and even fairies
danced there at times. But for the most part the
strange creatures I saw took the form of creep-
ing or flying things; fairies changed themselves
into beautiful moths and wild bees, but brownies
and spunkies to crawling toads and tritons. But
heigho! I fear a poor peat has few opportunities
of doing good in the world."
"Say not so!" exclaimed a blazing lump of coal;
"even a humble peat is not to be despised. How
often have you not brought joy and gladness to
the poor man's fireside, caused the porridge-pot
to boil and the bairns to laugh with glee, ban-
ished the cold of winter, and infused comfort


16
KING COAL.
and warmth into the limbs of the aged. But you
are modest, and modesty is ever the companion
of genuine merit."
"And you, sir,” said the peat to the coal, “you
are very, very great and very, very old-are you
not?"
<<
I am very, very old, and I am no doubt very,
very powerful. Yet my powers are gifts of the
great Creator, and it is mine to distribute them.
to toiling and deserving man. Ages and ages ago
before this ancient pine log was thought of or
dreamt of, before mankind even dwelt on these
islands, when its woods were the home of the
wildest of beasts, when gigantic woolly elephants
with curling tusks roamed free in its forests, and
its marshes and lakes swarmed with loathsome
saurians, I dwelt on earth's surface. But changes
came with time, and for thousands of years I
was dead and buried in the earth's black depths.
The ingenuity of man has resuscitated me, and
now I have gladly become his servant and slave.
I warm the castle, the palace, and the humble
cot. I give light as well as heat; I am swifter
than the eagle in my flight. I am more powerful
than the wind; I drag man's chariots across the
land, I waft his ships to every clime and every
sea. I move the mightiest machinery; I am gentle
in peace and dreadful in war.
"Nay more, the great wizard Science has but
to lift his wand, and lo! I yield up products more
(568)


STRANGER THINGS HAVE HAPPENED.
17
wonderful than any yet on earth. Gorgeous were
the colours that adorned the flowers of the land
in ages long gone by, delicate and delightful were
their perfumes; but these perfumes and these
colours I have carefully stored, and give them
now to man."
""
What more Tommy would have overheard, as
he sat there at his sister's knee, it is impossible
to say, for the boy had fallen asleep.
CHAPTER II.
"IT WAS ON JUST SUCH A NIGHT AS THIS, SISTER.
N%
""
repeated Tommy's father as he proceeded
to refill his pipe; "we mustn't expect to
make much of Tommy."
"Tommy may be president of America yet,"
said Uncle Robert, looking quietly up from his
paper. "Stranger things have happened, brother;
much stranger."
66
Pigs might fly," said Tommy's father, some-
what unfeelingly. Stranger things have hap-
("
pened, brother; much stranger."
Tommy's brothers laughed aloud.
Tommy's mother smiled faintly.
But the boy slept on, all unconscious that he
was being made the butt of a joke.
(568)
B


18
TOMMY THE DREAMER.
Tommy was not an over-strong lad to look at.
About eleven or twelve years old, perhaps. He
had fair silky hair, regular features, and great
wondering blue eyes that appeared to look very
far away sometimes. For Tommy was a dreamy,
thinking boy. To tell the truth, he lived as much
in a world of his own as if he were in the moon,
and the man of the moon away on a long holiday.
He seemed to possess very little in common with
his brothers. Their tastes, at all events, were
infinitely different from his; in fact they were
lads of the usual style or "run" which you find
reared on such farms as those of Laird Talisker's
-called laird because he owned all the land he
tilled. Dugald, Dick, and John were quite en
rapport with all their surroundings. They loved
horses and dogs and riding and shooting, and
they had to take to farming whether they liked
it or not. Dugald was the eldest; he was verg-
ing on seventeen, and had long left school. In-
deed he was his father's right hand, both in the
office and in the fields. His father and he were
seldom seen apart, at church or market, mill or
smithy; and as time rolled on and age should
compel Mr. Talisker to take things easy, Dugald
would naturally step into his father's shoes.
Dick was sixteen, and Jack or John about
fourteen; and neither had as yet left the parish
school, which was situated about a mile and a half
beyond the hill. All boys in Scotland receive


LIFE AT THE FARM.
19
tolerably advanced education if their parents can
possibly manage to keep them at their studies,
and these two lads were already deeply read
in the classics and higher branches of mathe-
matics.
What were they going to be? Well, Dick said
he should be a clergyman and nothing else, and
Jack had made up his mind to be a cow-boy.
He had read somewhere all about cow-boys in
the south-western states of America, and the life,
he thought, would suit him entirely. How glori-
ous it must feel to go galloping over a ranche,
armed with a powerful whip; to bestride a noble
horse, with a broad hat on one's head and revolvers
at one's hip! Then, of course, every other week,
if not oftener, there would be wild adventures
with Comanche red-skins, or Indians of some
other equally warlike tribe; while now and then
this jolly life would be enlivened by hunting
horse-stealers across the boundless prairie, and
perhaps even lynching them if they happened to
catch the thieves, and there was a tree handy.
Jack's classical education might not be of much
service to him in the wild West, either in fighting
bears or scalping Indians; though it would be
easily carried. He determined, however, not to
neglect the practical part of the business; and so
whenever opportunity favoured him he used to
mount the biggest horse in the stable and go
swinging across the fields and the moors, leaping


20
HE WOULD BE A COW-BOY.
fences and ditches, and in every way behaving
precisely as he imagined a cow-boy would.
Several times Jack had narrowly escaped hav-
ing his neck broken in teaching Glancer-that was
the big horse's name to buck-jump. Glancer
was by no means a bad-tempered beast; but when
it came to slipping a rough pebble under the
saddle, then he buck-jumped to some purpose,
and Jack had the worst of it.
Mrs. Talisker herself was a somewhat delicate,
gentle English lady, whom the laird had wooed
and won among the woodlands of "bonnie Berk-
shire." Her daughter Alicia, who was but a year
older than Dugald, took very much after the
mother, and was in consequence, perhaps, the
worthy laird's darling and favourite.
up
One thing must be said in favour of this honest
farmer-laird: his whole life and soul were bound
in his family, and his constant care was to do
well by them and bring them up to the best
advantage. But he did not think it right to
thwart his boys' intentions with regard to the
choice of a profession. There was admittedly a
deal of difference between a clergyman of the
good old Scottish Church and a cow-boy. How-
ever, as Jack had elected to be a cow-boy, a cow-
boy he should be—if he did not break his neck
before his father managed to ship him off to the
wild West.
But as to Tommy, why the laird hardly cared






568
IN PERIL OF LIGHTNING AND FLOOD.
BU J. B


TOM'S TUTOR.
21
to trouble. Tommy was Uncle Robert's boy.
Uncle Robert, an old bachelor, who had spent his
younger days at sea, had constituted himself
Tommy's tutor, and had taught the boy all he
knew as yet. Uncle Robert ruled the lad by
love alone, or love and common sense combined.
He did not attempt to put a new disposition into
him, but he did try to make the very best of that
which he possessed. In this he showed his great
wisdom. In fact, in training Tommy he followed
the same tactics precisely as those that successful
bird and beast-trainers make such good use of.
And what I am going to say is well worth re-
membering by all boys who wish to teach tricks
to pets, and make them appear to be supernaturally
wise. Do not try to inculcate anything, in the
shape of either motion or sound, which the crea-
ture does not evince an inclination or aptitude to
learn. Take a white rat for example, and after
it is thoroughly tame and used to running about
anywhere, loving you, and having therefore no
fear, begin your lessons by placing the cage on
the table with the door open. It will run out
and presently show its one wondrous peculiarity
of appropriation. In very wantonness it will
pick up article after article and run into its
house with it-coins, thimbles, apples, cards, &c.
Now, I hinge its education in a great measure on
this, and in a few months I can teach it to tell
fortunes with cards, and spell words even. A rat


22
22
STORIES OF ADVENTURE.
has two other strange motions; one is standing
like a bear, another is climbing poles. By edu-
cating it from each of these stand-points you can
make the creature either a soldier or a sailor, or
even both, and teach it tricks and actions the
glory of which will be reflected on you, the
teacher.
Tommy was exceedingly fond of Uncle Robert,
to begin with, and never tired listening of an
evening to his wonderful stories of travel and
adventure.
Uncle lived in a little cottage not very far from
the farm; and if he was not at the laird's fireside
of a winter evening he would generally be found
at his own, and Tommy would not be far away.
They used to sit without any light except that
reflected from the fire. Stories told thus, Tommy
thought, were ever so much nicer, especially if
they were tales of mystery and adventure. For
there were the long shadows flickering and danc-
ing on the wall, the darkness of the room behind
them, and the fitful gleams in the fire itself, in
which the lad sometimes thought he could ac-
tually see the scenery and figures his uncle was
describing; and all combined to produce effects
that were really and truly dramatic.
Well, if by day Dugald was his father's con-
stant companion, Tommy was his uncle's; and
the one hardly ever went anywhere without the
other.


A BUCK-JUMPER.
23
School hours were from nine till one o'clock;
and uncle was a strict teacher, though by no
means a hard task-master. Then the two of them
had all the rest of the long day to read books, to
wander about and study the great book of nature
itself, to fish, or do whatsoever they pleased. It
must be said here that Uncle Robert was almost
quite as much a boy at heart as his little nephew.
He was a good old-fashioned sailor, this uncle of
Tommy, and a man who never could grow old;
because he loved nature so, and nature never
grows old: it is the same yesterday, to-day, and
for ever.
Uncle Robert was quite as good-natured as the
big horse Glancer. But Glancer drew the line at
pebbles under his saddle. The best-tempered
horse in the world will draw the line at some-
thing or other. And uncle was the same.
anyone wanted to annoy him they had only to
mention Tommy in a disparaging sort of way;
then, like Glancer, Uncle Robert buck-jumped
at once.
If
So, on that particular evening-a wild and
stormy one it was in the latter end of April-
when Tommy's father talked about the improba-
bility of pigs flying, and Tommy's brothers had
all laughed, Uncle Robert had felt a little nettled.
"Ah, you may laugh, lads,” he said, putting his
paper down on his knee and thrusting his spec-
tacles up over his bald brow-"you may laugh,


24
A STORMY NIGHT.
lads, and you may talk, brother, but I tell you
that there is more in that boy than any of you
are aware of; and mark my words, he is not
going to remain a child all his life. Boys will be
men, and Tommy will be Tom some day."
Mrs. Talisker looked fondly over at her brother,
and she really felt grateful to him for taking her
boy's part.
Whoo-00-00! howled the wind round the
chimney, and doors and windows rattled as if
rough hands were trying their fastenings. Every
now and then the snow and the fine hail were
driven against the panes, with a sound like that
produced by the spray of an angry sea against
frozen canvas.
At this very time, away down in the midlands
of England, spring winds were softly blowing
and the buds appearing on the trees; but on the
west coast of Scotland, where the farm of Craigie-
lea was situated, winter still held all the land,
the moors, the lakes, and woods, firm in his icy
grasp.
To-night the moon had sunk early in a purple-
blue haze-a new moon it was, and looked through
the mist like a Turkish scimitar wet with blood.
The stars had been bright for a short time after-
wards. But the wind rose roaring from the east,
driving great dark clouds before it, that soon
swallowed everything else up. Then it was night
in earnest.


SIX YEARS AGO.
25
Whoo-00-00!
was, to be sure! You might have imagined that
wild wolves were howling round the house, and
stranger voices still rising high over the din of
the raging storm.
What a mournful sound it
Whoo-00-00!
<<
What a fearful night!" said Mrs. Talisker.
'Ay, sister," said Uncle Robert; “it is blowing
half a gale outside to-night, I'll warrant, and may
be more."
By "outside" he did not mean out of doors
simply. It is a sailor's expression, and refers to
the sea away beyond the harbour-mouth.
"It was on just such a night as this, sister,
though not on such a cold sea as that which is
sweeping over our beach to-night, that the South-
ern Hope was lost on the shores of Ecuador.
Heigho-ho! My dear friend Captain Herbert has
never been the same man since.
66
And do you know, my dear, it happened
exactly six years ago this very night."
(c
'How very strange!" said Tommy's mother.
"Strange, my dear? Not a bit of it. What is
strange, and how should it be strange-eh?"
Oh, I meant, brother, that you should think
of it. I believe that was what I meant."
But let me tell you
"C
You're not very sure.
this, that there never does pass a single 25th of
February that I do not think of that fearful ship-
wreck. Ay, girl, and pray too. I've been pray-


26
WONDERS ON THE DEEP.
ing as I sat here—praying with my eyes on the
newspaper, when you all thought I was reading
it. You look at me, sister; and Tommy has woke
up, and he is looking at me too. Well, you little
know how often old sailors like me pray, and what
strange things we do pray for, and how our prayers
are often heard. You see, sister, those who go
down to the sea in ships, and see the wonders of
the Lord in the mighty deep, get a kind of used
to thinking more than shore-folks do. In many
a dark black middle watch, we are alone with the
ocean, one might say, and that is like being in
the presence of the great Maker of all. Verily,
sister, I think the waves on such nights seem to
talk to us, and tell us things that the ear of lands-
man never listened to. No one could long lead
the life of a sailor and not be a believer. Do you
mind, sister, that New Testament story of our
Saviour being at sea one night with some of his
disciples, when a great storm arose, and the craft
was about to founder? How he was asleep in
the stern-sheets, how in an agony of terror they
awoke him, how his words 'Peace, be still' fell
like oil on the troubled waters, and how they all
marvelled, saying, 'What manner of man is this,
that even the wind and sea obey him?'
"Well, sister, I never knew nor felt the full
meaning of those words until I became a sailor.
But sometimes on dreamy midnights, when dark-
ness and danger were all around us, I have in my


66 WE OBEY HIM."
27
thoughts accused the ocean of remorselessness,
the winds of cruelty; and, as I did so, seemed to
hear that answer come to me up from the black
vastness, 'We obey Him.' The winds sang it as
they went shrieking through the rigging, the
waves sang it as they went toiling past: 'We obey
Him,' 'We obey Him.' Then have I turned my
thoughts heavenward and been comforted, know-
ing in whose good hands we all were.
"A sailor's prayer, sister, on a night like this,
while he sits comfortably by the fireside, is for
those in danger far at sea or on some surf-tor-
mented lee shore. But on this particular evening,
on this 25th of February, I always add a prayer
for my good old shipmate, Captain Herbert-and
may heaven give him peace."
"C
((
Captain Herbert is still at sea, brother?"
"Ay, sister, and will be, if spared, for many a
year. He seems unable to rest on shore, although
he is rich enough to retire. You see, he never
had but the one boy, Bernard; and, foolish as it
may appear, he cherishes the notion that he still
lives, and that some day he will meet him again.
And never a strange sailor does he meet in
any part of the world, or any port of the world,
but he questions concerning all his life and adven-
More than once has my friend been thus
led astray, and has sailed to distant shores where
he had heard some English lad was held prisoner
by Indians or savages. But all in vain.
tures.


28
UNCLE ROBERT'S STORY.
"It was a sad story, you say, sister? Indeed,
lass, it was. Shall I repeat it?
،
Well, stir the fire, Tommy, and make it blaze
and crackle. How the storm roars, to be sure."
Whoo-00-00! Whoo-oo-oo! howled the
wind again; but the fire only burned the brighter,
and the fireside looked the cheerier for the sound.
CHAPTER III.
THE FEARFULNESS OF OUR SITUATION CAN
HARDLY BE REALIZED."
NCLE ROBERT sat for some little time with
UNOLLIS
his eyes fixed on those burning logs before
he commenced to speak, the firelight flickering
on his face. But bygone scenes were being re-
called, and events long past were being re-enacted
in his memory as he sat thus.
He spoke at length; quietly at first, dreamily
almost, as if unconscious of the presence of any-
one near him, apparently addressing himself to
no one, unless it were to the faces in the fire:-
Six years!-six years ago, and only six, and
yet it seems like a lifetime, because I, who have
been a rover and a wanderer since my boyhood,
have come to settle down on this peaceful farm.


LAND OF THE EQUATOR.
29
Yet I have been happy, quietly happy, in my
sister's family, and with the companionship of
her dear children; but the afternoon of a sailor's
existence must ever be a somewhat restless one.
Like the sea over which he has sailed so long, it
is seldom he can be perfectly still. In spite of
himself he feels a longing at times to revisit scenes
of former days, and the lovely lands and sunny
climes that time has hallowed and softened till
they resemble more the phantasies of some beauti-
ful dream than anything real and earthly.
A vision like this rises up before me even now,
as I sit here. The wintry winds are howling
round the house, but I hear them not, nor noise
of hail or softer snow driving against the window
panes. I am far away from Scotland, I am in a
land whose rocky shores are laved by the blue
rolling waves of the Pacific, I am in Ecuador.
Ecuador! land of the equator; land of equal day
and night; land that the swift-setting sun leaves
to be plunged into darkness Cimmerian, or bathed
in moonlight more tranquil and lovely than poets
elsewhere can ever dream of; land of mighty
mountains, whose snow-capped summits are lost
in the blue vault of heaven or buried in clouds of
rolling mist; land of ever-blazing volcanic fires,
wreathing smoke, and muttering thunders; land
of vast plains and prairies; land of swamps that
seem boundless; land of forests whose depths are
dark by daylight-forests that bathe the valleys,


30
A STRANGE WORLD.
the cañons, the glens with a foliage that is green,
violet, and purple by turns, darkling as they climb
the hills half-way to their rugged crests; land of
waterfalls and foaming torrents, over which in the
sunlight rainbows play against the moss-grown
rocks or beetling cliffs beyond; land of mighty
rivers, now sweeping through dreamy woods, now
roaring green over the lava rocks, now broadening.
out into peaceful lakes or inland seas, with shores
of silvery sand; land of tribal savages, wild and
warlike or peaceful and uncouth; land of the
Amazons; land of the fern, the moss, and the
wild-flower; land of giant butterflies, with wings
of bronzy silken velvet, or wings of colours more
radiant than the humming-bird itself, or wings
of transparent gauze that quiver and shimmer in
the sunlight like plates of mica; land of strange
birds; land of the vampire or blood-sucking bat,
the tarantula, the centiped, and many a creeping
horror besides; land, too, of the condor, the puma,
the jaguar, the peccary, the tapir, the sloth, and
agouti; land of romance, and a history going
back, back, back into the remotest regions of the
past; truly a strange and wondrous land! I
seem to see it all, everything, among those blazing
logs to-night.
I lived in Ecuador for many, many months. I
roughed it with the Indians, the Zaparos, the
Napos, and Jivaros; I wandered over forest-land
and plain and by the banks of the streams; I


1
THE SOUTHERN HOPE."
31
hunted in the jungle and on the prairies, and
after escaping many a danger I returned to the
sea-coast, laden with skins and curios and a wealth
of specimens that would have made the eyes of a
naturalist sparkle with very joy.
During all my long wanderings my servants
had been faithful; and although our lives had
oftentimes been in danger from wild beasts and
wilder men, here we were once more at Guaya-
quil safe and sound.
I was lucky enough to find a small Spanish
vessel to take me and my treasures to Callao;
and here, at this somewhat loud-smelling seaport,
my good star was once more in the ascendant;
and though I had arrived three weeks before my
promised time, the Southern Hope was lying
waiting for me.
My welcome on board was a very joyful and
gratifying one. Captain Herbert himself met
me in the gangway, and behind him was little
Bernard. The boy was not content with shaking
hands. He must jump joyfully into my arms
and up and on to my shoulder; and thus he rode
me aft to where good little Mrs. Herbert sat in
her deck-chair nursing baby, with Lala, her sable
ayah, standing near.
"Now, don't rise," I cried. "I won't permit
it. How well you look, Mrs. Herbert! The
roses have quite returned to your once wan
cheeks."


32
THE HALF-CASTE SPANIARD.
"A nice compliment, Mr. Robert Sinclair," she
replied, smiling. "And you too are looking
well."
"Have I got roses on my cheeks?" I said.
"Yes," she said; "peony roses."
"And how is baby?"
"O, look at her; isn't she charming?"
I gave baby a finger, which she at once pro-
ceeded to eat with as much relish as if she had
been a young cannibal. And so our reunion
was complete. At dinner that day we were all
exceedingly happy and full of mirth and fun.
We had so much to tell each other, too; for
during my sojourn in Ecuador the Southern Hope
had been on a long cruise among the Pacific
islands, where everything had seemed so strange
and delightfully foreign to both Captain and
Mrs. Herbert, that, they told me, it was like
being in another world.
The steward-I have good reason for mention-
ing this-was most assiduous in his attentions at
table that day. He was a short, broad-shouldered,
strong-jawed, half-caste Spaniard, exceedingly
clever, as Mrs. Herbert assured me, but possessed
of those dark shifty eyes that seem unable to
trust anyone, or to inspire trust in others.
When dessert was put on the table-a dessert
of such fruits as princes in England could not
procure Mrs. Herbert motioned to him that he
might now retire. He only smiled and shrugged


MYSTERIOUS BOXES.
333
his shoulders in reply, and presently he was
entirely forgotten.
I told my
So our conversation rattled on.
adventures much to the delight of every one, but
especially to that of our young mate and little
Bernard, although the child was barely seven
years of age.
""
And those mysterious boxes, Mr. Sinclair,"
said Mrs. Herbert, "when will you open those?"
"O, not before we get to San Francisco; when,
you know, I must leave you all, and make my
way home overland."
From this reply, it will be understood that
I was but a passenger on the Southern Hope.
I was travelling, indeed, for pleasure and health
combined, but had been altogether nearly a year
and a half in this hitherto happy ship; which had
been baby's birthplace, for little Oceana was born
on the ocean wave. Hence her name, which we
always pronounced 'Theena.
"No, my dear Mrs. Herbert," I continued,
"those boxes contain greater treasures than ever
were brought from the diamond mines of Gol-
conda; treasures more beautiful, and rarer far
than all the gold in rich Peru.”
"Well, Robert," said the captain laughing
heartily, "they are heavy enough for anything;
and by St. George and merry England, my friend,
you do well to keep such treasures in your own
cabin."
(568)
C


34
AN UNEASY MIND.
I was at that moment engaged fashioning some
marvellous toy for Bernard from a piece of orange
peel, but happening to look up I found the evil,
sinister eyes of Roderigo the steward fixed on me
with a look I did not half like.
I took occasion that same evening to ask Mrs.
Herbert some particulars of this man's history;
for he had not been in the ship when I left it.
She had little to tell me. James, the old steward,
had run away or mysteriously disappeared some-
how or other at Callao, and the very next day
this Roderigo had applied for the situation.
Captain Herbert had waited for his steward for
a whole week; but as there were no signs of his
coming, and no trace of him on shore, it was con-
cluded he had gone to Lima. So, as he seemed
eminently fitted for the duties of the post, the
half-caste Spaniard was installed in his place.
He proved to be all they could desire, Mr. Her-
bert continued, although he certainly was not
handsome; but he was very fond of Bernard, and
doated on baby 'Theena. I asked no more, but
I felt far from content or easy in my mind.
We left Callao at last, and proceeded on our
voyage to San Francisco. The Southern Hope
was a good sea vessel; so our voyage was
favourable, though the winds were light until
we reached the equator, which we crossed in
baffling winds, about 85° west longitude. We
soon got enveloped in dense wet fogs, and for


ARE YOUR PISTOLS READY?
35
days it was all but a dead calm. A breeze sprang
up at last, however, and we kept on our course,
and by and by the sky cleared and we saw the
sun.
None too soon; for not ten miles to the east of
us loomed the rocky cliffs of Northern Ecuador.
They could be none other, yet why were we
here?
Captain Herbert could not understand it for
a time. He was as good a sailor as ever stood
down the English Channel or crossed the far-
famed Bay of Biscay. He was not left long in
doubt, however.
There was villainy on board. Treachery had
been at work, and the compass had been tampered
with.
It was about two bells in the afternoon watch
when he made the discovery. I heard him walk-
ing rapidly up and down the deck first, as some
sailors do when deep in thought. Then he came
below.
Are your pistols all ready?" he said to me.
Yes," I answered; "but I sincerely hope there
will be no need of them."
Then he told me what he had discovered, and
that he felt sure mutiny was intended.
He broke the news as gently as possible to his
wife, and gave orders that she should keep to the
cabin with the ayah and the children.
Then he and I went on deck together.


36
MUTINY.
As I passed the steward's pantry I tried the
door. It was locked, and I could see through
the jalousies that no one was inside.
My doubts of the half-caste had become certain-
ties.
Call all hands, and let the men lay aft, mate!"
This was Herbert's stern command.
"Ay, ay, sir," came the cheerful reply.
The Southern Hope was but a moderate-sized
ship, and our men, all told, were but nineteen
hands.
The mate's sonorous voice and the sound of his
signalling boot on the deck could easily be heard
all over the ship.
Captain Herbert and I waited uneasily and
impatiently by the binnacle. His face was very
pale, but firm and set, and I knew he would fight
to the death, if fighting there was going to be.
Alas! we were not left long in doubt as to the
exact position of affairs. Out of all the crew-
which were mostly a mixed class of foreigners
-only five lay aft.
"Where are the others?" shouted the captain.
Groaning and yelling came from below forward
as a reply.
"The men have mutinied," said the mate.
The words had scarcely left his lips ere, headed
by Roderigo himself, the mutineers rushed on
deck.
"You wanted us to lay aft," cried Roderigo.


"Here we are.
MUTINEERS TRIUMPHANT.
37
What do you want, Mr. Herbert,
for I am captain now?"
Before the captain could reply, either by word
of mouth or ring of pistol-shot, the mate had
felled the steward with a capstan-bar.
It was
a blow that might have killed a puma; but,
though bleeding like an ox, the half-caste drew
his knife as he lay on deck, and next moment had
sprung on the first officer as a jaguar springs on
a deer.
The fight now became general; but in a very
few minutes the mutineers were triumphant.
Our mate was slain; while, whether dead or alive,
the other poor fellows who had so nobly stuck
by us were heaved into the sea.
A worse fate was probably intended for Cap-
tain Herbert and myself; but meanwhile, our
hands were tied, and we were led to the after-
cabin and there locked up. No one came near
us all that afternoon, nor was there any sound that
could give us even an inkling as to the fate of
poor Mrs. Herbert, the children, and the ayah.
Had they been murdered or even molested, we
surely should have heard shrieks or appeals for
mercy.
I did my best to keep up my companion's heart,
but there were moments when I thought he
would lose his very reason in the depth of his
despair.
About an hour afterwards it was quite dark,


38
ON THE ROCKS.
and we could tell from the singing and roystering
forward that the mutineers had broken into the
spirit-room and were having a debauch. It had
come on to blow too, and the motion of the vessel
was uneasy and jerking. Evidently she was being
badly steered, and an effort was also being made
to shorten sail.
The storm increased till it blew all but a gale.
Some sails had been rent in ribbons, and the noise
of the flapping was like that of rifle platoon
firing.
I was standing close by the cabin door, my ear
anxiously drinking in every sound, when suddenly
I was thrown violently on the deck, and by the
dreadful grating and bumping noises under us
we could tell that the vessel had struck heavily
on a rock. Almost at the same moment there
was the noise of falling spars and crashing wreck.
Then a lull, succeeded by the sound of rushing
footsteps overhead and cries of "Lower away the
boats!"
The fearfulness of our situation after this can
hardly be realized. Nothing was now to be heard
except the roar of the winds and the thumping
of the great seas against the vessel's sides. Hope-
less as we were, we longed for her to break up
Had she parted in two we felt that we could have
rejoiced. Death by drowning would not seem so
terrible, I thought, could we but see the stars
above us or even feel the wind in our faces;


WHERE WAS BERNARD?
39
but to die shut up thus in the darkness like rats
in a hole was too dreadful to think of-it was
maddening!
In the midst of our despair, and just as we were
beginning to think the end could not be far off,
we heard a voice outside in the fore-cabin.
66
Husband! husband!" it cried in pitiful tones;
"where are you?"
"Here! here!" we both shouted in a breath.
Next minute a light shone glimmering through
the keyhole, and we knew Mrs. Herbert had lit
the lamp.
Then an axe was vigorously applied to our pri-
son door, and in a short time we were free.
Mrs. Herbert had fainted in her husband's arms.
She slowly recovered consciousness, and then
could tell us all she knew.
The mutineers had rifled the ship; they had
broken open my cabin and boxes, expecting to
find treasure, and as soon as the vessel struck had
lowered the boats and left the ship.
But where was Bernard?
And where was the ayah?
Alas! neither could be found.
day to this their fate is a mystery.
And from that
The storm was little more, after all, than a
series of tropical squalls. The vessel did not break
up just then, and when daylight broke the sea all
around us was as calm and blue as baby 'Theena's
eyes.


40
DEATH OF MRS. HERBERT.
In the course of the day we managed to rig a
raft and thereby reach the shore.
It was a wild and desolate beach on which we
landed, and glad we were to find even the huts
of Indians in which to shelter.
There we lived for three long weeks, making
many trips in the canoes of the Indians to the
ship, and bringing on shore as many of the neces-
saries of life as we could find.
But alas! the loss of Bernard and the terror of
that terrible night had done their work on poor
Mrs. Herbert. She gradually sunk and died.
We buried her near the beach on that strange
wild shore, and raised a monument over the grave,
roughly built in the form of a cross, from green
lava rocks.
Our adventures after that may be briefly told.
The ship did not break up for many weeks, and
where the carrion is there cometh the "hoody
crow." The first coasting vessel that found out
the wreck plundered it, and sailed away leaving
us to perish for aught they cared. But with the
captain of the next we managed to come to terms,
and the promise of a handsome reward secured us
a passage to Callao, and there we found a Chris-
tian ship and in due time arrived in England.
"And what about Bernard?" said Tommy with
eager eyes.
"The mystery about Bernard still remains, dear


SOMEONE IS COMING.
41
boy. He may be living somewhere yet in the
interior of Ecuador, or he may have been taken
away by some passing ship, or—and this is my
own opinion-he is dead."
"And the baby 'Theena is living, isn't she?"
said Alicia.
"She was, dear, when last I heard of her, and
the father too is well. Heigh-ho! I wonder if he
knows I am thinking about him to-night, and
telling his strange story and my own?"
Whoo-oo-oo! roared the storm.
The wind-
wolves still shrieked around the house. But sud-
denly Laird Talisker lifts a finger as if to com-
mand silence.
All listen intensely.
That is something over and above the 'how-
thering' of the gale," he says. "Hark!"
Rising unmistakably above the din of the
storm-wind could now be heard the barking of
dogs, as if in anger.
"Someone is coming undoubtedly," says Uncle
Robert.
Then the door opens and old Mawsie the house-
keeper enters, looking so scared that the borders
of the very cap or white linen mutch she wore
seem to stand straight out as if starched.
"What can be the matter, Mawsie?" asks the
laird.
"O, sir!" gasps old Mawsie, "on this awfu'
nicht through the snaw and the howtherin'


42
CAPTAIN HERBERT APPEARS.
wind-storm-a carriage and pair drives up to the
door, and a gentleman wi' a bonnie wee lady
alichts-"
What more Mawsie would have said
may never
be known, for at that moment straight into the
room walk the arrivals themselves, and in his
eagerness to get towards them Uncle Robert
knocks over his chair, and the long stool on which
the boys are sitting goes down with it, boys and all.
"By all that is curious!" cries Uncle Robert,
giving a hand to each. However did you come
here? Talk of angels and lo! they appear."
"(
He shakes Captain Herbert by the hand as if
he had determined to dislocate his elbow, and he
fairly hugs little "Theena in his arms.
"And this is baby," he cries to Tommy's mother,
"and here is good old Captain Herbert himself.
Why, this is the most joyful 25th of February I
ever do remember.”
CHAPTER IV.
AMONG THE WOODS OF CRAIGIELEA.
ITH the arrival of Captain Herbert and little
WITH the arrival of Capt o sunshine appeared
a
to have fallen athwart our young hero's pathway
in life.


'THEENA.
43
As he sat in his corner that evening thought-
fully gazing on her sweet face, while her father
and his uncle kept talking together as old friends
and old sailors will, Tommy thought he had never
seen anything on earth so lovely before, and al-
beit he was about half afraid of her he made up
his mind to fall in love with her as early as pos-
sible. He really was not quite certain yet, how-
ever, that he might not be dreaming. Had he
fallen asleep again, he wondered, after Uncle
Robert had finished his story? and was 'Theena
but a vision? She looked so ethereal and so like
a fairy child that he could not help giving his
own arm a sly pinch to find out whether he really
was awake or not. He did feel that pinch, so it
must be all right.
Next he wondered if his two big brothers
would appropriate 'Theena almost exclusively to
themselves while she stayed here. He deter-
mined to circumvent them, however. He had a
hut and a home in the wild woods not far from
the romantic ruin of Craigie Castle, and he felt
sure that 'Theena would be delighted with this
hermitage of his. She did not look very strong,
but she would soon be rosier. He would wander
through the woods and wilds and cull posies of
wild-flowers, and by the sea-shore and gather
shells for her-shells as prettily pink as those
delicate ears of hers. What a pity, he thought,
that it was still winter! But never mind, spring


44
A BOY'S LOVE.
would come, and he knew where nearly all the
song-birds dwelt and built. And O! by the way,
'Theena's eyes were as blue as the eggs of the
accentor or hedge-sparrow. Even deeper, they
were more like the blue of the pretty wee ger-
mander speedwell that before two months were
past would be peeping up through the grass by
the hedge-foot. Then further on there would be
the wild blue hyacinth and the blue-bells of Scot-
lands (the hare-bell of English waysides), and the
bugloss and milk-wort and succory-all of them
more or less like 'Theena's eyes and a score of
others besides, he could find and fashion into gar-
lands.
'Theena smiled so sweetly when she bade him
good-night, and was upon the whole so self-
possessed and lady-like, that the boy felt infinitely
beneath her in every way. But that did not
matter; he would improve day by day, he felt
certain enough on this point. So he went off to
bed, and dreamed that he and 'Theena were up in
a balloon together, sailing through the blue sky,
and that down beneath them was spread out just
such a romantic land as that of Ecuador, which
his uncle had described. It was more like a scene
of enchantment than anything else. But lo! even
as he gazed in rapture from the car of the balloon,
it entered a region of rolling clouds and snow
mists; it became darker and darker, the gloom
was only lit up by the hurtling fires of terrible


A DREAM.
45
volcanoes, while all around the thunders pealed
and lightnings flashed. Then the balloon seemed
to collapse, and after a period of falling, falling,
falling that felt interminable, suddenly the sun
shone once more around them-'Theena was still
by his side-and they found themselves in a kind
of earthly arboreal and floral paradise. Near them
stood a tall and handsome young man, dressed,
however, like a savage, and armed with bow and
arrow.
He advanced, smiling, to the spot where they
stood, and extending a hand to each:
"Dear sister and brother," he said, "do you not
know me? Behold I am the long-lost Bernard!"
Then Tommy awoke and found it was daylight,
and that the robin was singing on his window-
sill expectant of crumbs.
•
Spring came all at one glad bound to the fields
and woods of Craigielea this year.
Three weeks had passed away since the night
Tommy had dreamt that strange dream. Cap-
tain Herbert had gone south. He would sail
round the world before he returned to Craigielea
to take his "little lass," as he called "Theena, away
with him again. Meanwhile he knew she would
be well cared for, and grow bigger and stronger.
Tommy's brothers had made no attempt, or
very little of an attempt, to win 'Theena over.
True, Jack had mounted her once or twice on


46
NOTHING LIKE BOYS.
Glancer; but Glancer, knowing the responsibility
of such a charge, could not be induced to break
even into a decent trot. So Jack got tired of
'Theena, and told her she might never expect to
make a cow-boy.
And Dick could not get the girl to race, or play
cricket or hockey, though he tried hard; and she
was not even good at climbing trees nor riding
on fences, and was positively afraid of Towsie,
the white, shorthorn bull, because he had red eyes
and tore up the ground with a fore-foot, while he
bellowed like distant thunder.
"It's no good, Jack," said Dick; "we couldn't
make anything of 'Theena if we tried ever so
long."
"I don't think so, Dick," was Jack's reply.
"Besides, what is the use of girls anyhow?"
Not much. I really want to know what they
are put into the world for at all."
"Well," said Jack, "we'll give her up, won't
we? Little Cinderella can have her for a play-
thing, can't he?"
"Yes, Jack, she'll just suit little Cinderella."
This was the name his brothers always called
Tommy by, because he always sat by his sister's
knee close to the fire, and looked at it for
hours.
"Dick," said Jack, "there's nothing like boys,
is there?"
"Nothing much.”


ON THEIR WAY TO THE WOODS.
"And there's nobody like you and me.
47
Hur-
rah! come and give me a leg up to mount Glancer,
and just see me clear that farther fence. Besides,
I've got a new way of making Glancer buck-
jump. Hurrah, Dick! Cow-boys for ever!"
As the two went tearing along towards the
paddock where Glancer was browsing, they met
Tommy and 'Theena on their way to the woods.
Tommy had a fishing-basket on his back, "Theena
carried the rod. Tommy had a bow and arrows
besides, and "Theena carried a real Arab spear.
"Hullo, Cinderella!" shouted Dick.
"Hurrah, Cinder!" cried Jack. "Why, where
ever are you off to with all that gear?"
We're going to the hermitage," said Tommy
proudly. "I'm the Hermit Hunter of the Wilds."
"Ha, ha, ha!" from both the bigger boys.
"And," continued Tommy, "we're going to play
at wild man in the woods; and we're going to
gather flowers, and find birds'-nests, and fish in
the Craigieburn, and perhaps go for a sail on the
sea."
"Ha, ha, ha! Well, don't you dare to fall in
anywhere and drown your little self," said Jack;
"else you will catch it. Good-bye, Cinder. Take
care of baby. Good-bye, Eenie-"Theenie."
And away went Dick and Jack whooping.
"I don't love your brothers much," said "Theena,
almost crying. "What makes them call you
Cinder?"


48
IN THE PINE-WOOD.
"I don't know, I'm sure, 'Theena; but I don't
mind it if you don't."
"I shall call you Tom."
"Thank you; but really I don't mind, you
know, and if you would prefer-"
"No, no, no. I don't like Cinderella. You're
not a girl."
"O, no.
I'm a boy, and Uncle Robert says I
Wouldn't you like to be a
shall soon be a man.
boy, "Theena?"
"Yes, dearly."
"It would be so nice if you were. We could
have even better fun than we have now, and you
would be able to get up trees, and shoot, and do
everything I do."
Talking thus they reached the great pine-wood,
and entered among the trees. In this silent
forest-land there was not a morsel of undergrowth,
only the withered needles that had fallen from the
pines and larches and formed a thick soft carpet.
And the great tree-stems went towering sky-
wards, brown for the pines, gray for the larches,
till they ended far above in a canopy of darkest
green that would hardly admit a ray of sunshine
without breaking it all up into little patches of
gold and silver.
"Theena felt somewhat afraid now, and crept
closer to Tom, who took her hand, and thus they
wandered on and on. And very small the two of
them looked among those giant timber trees.


UNDER TOM'S GUIDANCE.
49
"You're not very much afraid, are you?" said
Tom. "You needn't be, you know, for I'm the
Hermit Hunter of the Wilds, and could protect
you against anything; and Connie here would
protect us both."
Connie was the long-haired collie dog, who
followed his master everywhere like his shadow.
"You could shoot straight with your bow and
arrow, couldn't you, Tom, if any wild beast came
upon us?"
"O, very straight."
They were following a tiny beaten path that
led them through the pine-wood. But it also led
them up and up, and sometimes it was so steep
that they had to scramble on their hands and
knees.
By and by the pines gave place to silver-
stemmed birch-trees, with shimmering, shivering
leaves that reflected the sunshine in all directions.
The perfume from these trees was delightful in
the extreme.
They reached a clearing at last, where the
heather grew green all round, and where there
were lichen-clad stones to sit upon. Here one or
two large and lovely lizards were basking, and a
splendid green speckled snake went gliding away
at their approach. Tom, being a Highland lad,
was not afraid of either snakes or lizards. Neither
was 'Theena; for though she was only seven years
old she had been in strange countries with her
(568)
Ꭰ


50
THE HOME OF THE HERMIT HUNTER.
papa, and had seen far bigger snakes and lizards
too than any we have in Scotland.
Having rested for a short time, they resumed
their upward journey, and soon came to a little
table-land about an acre in extent, and near it, in
the shelter of a tall gray rock, with drooping
birch-trees, and broom, and whins, lo! the hermitage
and woodland home of the Hermit Hunter.
What a business the making of this hut had
been, nobody ever knew except Tommy himself,
Uncle Robert, and the collie dog Connie.
But now that it was made, it looked a very
complete dwelling indeed, just such as a Crusoe
would have delighted to live in.
"Theena was overjoyed.
"O!" she cried, "I would love to stay here
always; a table and cupboard, and real seats, and
real plates and things, and a window, and books
and all! I can't read much, can you?"
"Yes," said Tom. "Uncle taught me. He
teaches me always up here in summer, and he
shall teach you too."
After 'Theena had admired everything suffi-
ciently long, they commenced to climb again, and
soon rose out of the greenery of the woods en-
tirely, high up the hill into the very sky itself;
and, wonderful to say, here was a noble castle,
though now but little more than a ruin.
"My ancestors," said Tommy proudly, "once
dwelt here, and they were great soldiers and


CASTLES IN THE AIR.
51
warriors. Dick and Jack don't care anything
about ancestors; but I do, "Theena. And do you
know what I am going to do?"
"No," said "Theena.
"After I grow a big man, I mean.'
"Yes, after you grow a big man.'
""
"Well, I'm going to make lots of money first,
you know. For I shall be a sailor, and sail away
to strange countries where the gold lies in heaps
in the woods and wilds, watched over by terrible
dragons."
"Yes, Tom, I suppose there would be dragons."
"Well, I shall kill the dragons, and bring away,
O, ever so much gold! Then I will sail home in
my ship, and I shall furnish this castle all splen-
did and new again, with beautiful furniture and
pictures, and all sorts of nice things. O, but stop,
there is something I am going to do before then."
"Yes, Tom, something to do before then."
"I'm going to find your brother Bernard."
"O, that would be nice!"
"Yes, very. And I'll bring him home, and
we'll all live happy here in this splendid castle;
your father and my father, and mother, and uncle,
and Bernard, and Alicia, and Connie and all."
"Will your brothers be here too?"
"N-no, I think it better not, perhaps. Of
course Dugald would be at the farm, and we
could see him sometimes, but Dick and Jack
better go away and preach and be a cow-boy.”


52
THE HERMITAGE WINDOW.
"And then," said "Theena, "they would never
call you Cinder any more.
But how very nice
it will all be. And O, Tom, look at the waves!"
From the window of the room in which they
stood the view was grand and imposing. Hills
and rocks and woods on one side, the lovely glen
on the other, and down yonder, stretching away
and away to the illimitable horizon, the blue
Atlantic dotted here and there with white sails,
with one or two steamers in the far offing,
ploughing their way northwards, and leaving
their trailing wreaths of smoke and long white
wakes.
And up from the woods beneath them came a
chorus of bird songs. The mellow fluting of the
blackbird, the sweat clear notes of the mavis, and
bold bright lilt of chaffinch. Nearer still the
linnet perched on the whin-bush, and high, high
in air, dimly seen against a white fleecy cloud,
but easily heard, was the laverock itself.
And the bright pure sunshine was over every-
thing; glittering on the rippling sea, sparkling on
the mountain-tops where the snow still lay, patch-
ing the woods with light and shadow, heighten-
ing the green of moss and heather, changing the
streams into threadlets of silver, spreading out
the petals of half-open flowers, the gowans on the
lea, goldilocks by the meadow's brink, awakening
the bees, and causing ten thousand, thousand
rainbow-coloured insects to join in the song of


GOING FISHING.
53
gladness that rose everywhere on this lovely
spring morning, from nature to nature's God.
Tom and his companion stood long enough at
the window to drink in the essence of the glorious
scene, but no longer. The day was young, and
they were young. There was a moping owl up
in the ivy yonder; they would leave the ruined
castle to him, while they should go forth and
mingle with, and become part and parcel of, all
the light and loveliness that made up the day.
(c
Come, 'Theena, we mustn't keep the fish wait-
ing. Come, Connie; and you must not go and
bathe and splash to-day in the stream where we
are fishing. 'Theena, I want to get a basket full
to the top with such trout that will make Dick
and Jack want to kick themselves with jealousy."
And off they went, and no one saw either of
them again till the sun was going down behind
the sea, and changing the waves into billows of
blood.
C
3
2 30
CHAPTER V.
'THE WHOLE WORLD IS FULL OF CHANGES."
WELL
WELL," said Uncle Robert one morning some
time after this, "if anybody twenty years
ago had prophesied that I should become a school-
master in my declining years, I should have


54
A HAPPY LIFE.
laughed at him. But come, there is no help for
it, and by good luck I've got two of the dearest
and best little pupils that ever any teacher could
desire."
Perhaps, though, no boy or girl either was ever
taught on so delightful a system before. For,
every morning after breakfast-well rolled in
fear-nothing plaids if it happened to be raining
-Uncle Robert, with Tom and 'Theena, took
their way towards the pine-wood and the hermit-
age. If Dick and Jack happened to be about
when they started, they were sure to give them
a hail.
"Good-bye, Eenie-"Theenie," Dick would cry.
"Fare thee well, Old Cinder," Jack would shout.
And Uncle Robert would pretend to growl like
an old sea-lion, and shake his stick at the pair of
them as they scampered off, looking nearly all
legs, like the figures on the old Manx pennies.
Young as Tommy was, he had a very complete
knowledge of geography, and even a smattering
of navigation; for he had declared his intention
of becoming a sailor, and nothing else. But this
knowledge of his was not such as you learn in
books alone; but from books, and maps, and
charts, and the big globe itself. Tommy actually
knew and felt he was in the world, and not in-
side the cover of a book. And if you asked him
where any country was he pointed in the direc-
tion of it at once, taking his bearings as it were


THE HERMITAGE.
55
by the sun or stars, and the time of day or night
it happened to be at the time the question was
put.
Their school was the hermitage in the woods,
and here they laboured away most earnestly all
the forenoon. Then they laid aside their books,
and while uncle and 'Theena went outside to
squat on the green-sward, Tom-we shall not
call him Tommy any more-got ready the lun-
cheon. A very simple repast it was-cheese and
cake, and creamy milk.
Then uncle would light his pipe and perhaps
tell a story, and after this they started off in
pursuit of pleasure.
Were there not fish in the rivers, and shells by
the sea-shore, and wondrous creatures of fur and
feather in the woods and on the hills, beautiful
insects everywhere, and wild-flowers everywhere?
So passed one summer quickly away; and
another summer and another winter after that,
and now Tom was thirteen and 'Theena was nine
and over. Tom was a man, at least he thought
he was; and now, dearly though he loved his old
home, an almost irresistible longing took possession
of him to go to sea-to sail away and see the world
and all that is in it.
For Tom was already a sailor. One might
hardly think this possible, until told that for
a year and more hardly a fine day dawned that
did not see Uncle Robert and him, and as often


56
A TINY YACHT.
as not little 'Theena also, afloat in uncle's little
yacht-boat. This saucy wee craft had been a
man-o'-war's cutter, sold as unfit for further
service. But Uncle Robert had bought her, and
had her brought round to the bay of Craigie,
and there turned bottom upwards in old Dem
Harrison's boat-shed. And between the pair of
them, aided by Tom and 'Theena, who did the
looking-on, they soon made the hull seaworthy.
No flimsy work either. Wherever a plank
was in the slightest degree decayed, it was taken
out and a light, hard new one put in; the very
best of copper nails being used, and nothing else.
Then she was painted inside and out. This done,
she was "whomeld," as old Dem called it-that
is, turned right side up; and so they proceeded to
put a raised deck upon her, and step a nice rak-
ing mast with fore-and-aft mainsail and topsail
and jibs to match. Fine big jibs they were too;
honest spreads of canvas, having no resemblance
to either a baby's blanket or a biscuit sack.
wee yacht had an excellent rudder also, and
a false keel that could be raised or lowered at
pleasure, or to suit circumstances.
The
You must understand that the Oceana, as she
was called, after 'Theena, had the most darling
little saloon it is possible to imagine. To be
sure, Uncle Robert looked a bit crowded in it;
but when Tom and 'Theena were there by them-
selves, with only uncle's legs dangling down the


1
OVER SUMMER SEAS.
57
companion as he sat steering, the place seemed
just made for them. There was a couch at each
side, supported by lockers, and prettily upholstered
in crimson. There was a lamp in gimbals to burn
at night, a natty little locker containing all sorts
of dishes and all kinds of dainties, and brackets
in the corners with pockets for flowers, and
sconces for coloured candles; besides a rack for
arms and fishing-gear; while the white paint,
the gilding, and the mirrors completed the picture
and made the place double the size it really was.
Just imagine if you can how delicious it was
to go sailing away over the summer seas in
a fairy-like yacht such as the Oceana-the blue
above and the blue below, white-winged gulls
tacking and half-tacking in the air around. Per-
haps a shoal of porpoises in the offing, and great
jelly-fishes floating everywhere in the water like
animated parasols.
They were entirely independent of the land
when once fairly afloat; for the Oceana was well
provisioned, and had over and above all her other
stores a tiny library of the most readable books
of adventure and poetry.
No, it was little wonder that Tom became
a sailor under so pleasant a captain as Uncle
Robert, and on board so fairy-like a yacht.
But neither on shore was Tom's nautical studies
neglected; for in a room of uncle's cottage was
situated a huge toy ship, which he had built and


58
NAUTICAL STUDIES.
rigged himself, and which he and his pupils often
dismantled and rigged up again. Full rigged she
was, with every spar, bolt, and stay in its proper
place a very model of perfection.
But the most curious thing I have to relate is
that 'Theena learned every branch of the sea-
farer's craft quite as readily as, and even more
quickly than, Tom himself. Born and brought
up at sea, she appeared to take to everything
intuitively.
Taking it all in all, both Uncle Robert and his
pupils enjoyed themselves very much, indeed,
both on shore and afloat; but whether most on
shore or most afloat, it would have been difficult
to say.
"My dear children," said uncle one day at the
hermitage, just as they had finished luncheon
and were preparing for a long ramble-"my
dear children, I shall miss you very much when
you go away. I expect I'll begin to get old very
quickly after that.”
"Dear unky," said Tom, "you are never going
to grow old. Don't you believe it."
And we are never going to grow any older
either, unky," said "Theena.
Uncle Robert laughed.
Well," he said, "I should have no objections
to make a bargain of that sort with old Father
Time if we could fall in with him.
But, my
dears, changes will come, you know. The whole.


1
BLACK TOM.
59
world is full of changes, and the whole universe
too for that matter. And you, Tom, will be
going away to sea, and "Theena will have to go
to school. I might make a sailor of her, but,
bother me if I could teach her the piano and
dancing and the like of that, unless it were a
hornpipe such as the sailors dance on a Satur-
day night. Yes, my dears, changes must and
will come."
Black Tom came up at this moment and began
rubbing his great head against the boy's arm as
he lay on the grass. Black Tom was a cat, and
a very wonderful specimen he was; elephantic in
size as far as the term could be applied to any
grimalkin, with an enormous broad and honest-
looking face of his own. He was probably not
more than two years of age at this time; but
Tom-the boy Tom-had saved his life when he
was little more than full-grown. It was quite
a little adventure for the young Hermit Hunter
of the Wilds. As far as could be known, the cat
had attempted the abduction of a young or puppy-
fox, but the mother coming home in time a furious
battle had ensued. The hermit came up at the
very moment the fox had scored victory, and was
proceeding to break the cat up, as some day the
dogs might break her up. But a well-directed
arrow from Tom's cross-bow sent her yelping to
her den, and then the boy picked up the half-
dead cat and carried him to the hermitage. He


60
CHANGES AT CRAIGIELEA.
recovered after a few weeks of careful nursing;
and since then, wherever the boy went the cat
followed, all through the woods and over the hills,
and even out to sea in the Oceana yacht. Boy
and cat were inseparable, and throughout the
length and breadth of the parish they were known
to everybody as "the two Toms." When at peace,
Tom the cat was very contented-looking, though
no great beauty, his shoulder and head having
been terribly scarred in that encounter with the
fox; but he could be very fierce when he pleased.
He tolerated Connie the collie dog, and even
slept in his arms; but if any strange dog came
into the hut Tom mounted his back and rode
him out, whacking him all the way.
Changes must and will come. Yes, and changes
came to all about Craigielea before very long.
First and foremost Dick went away to Oxford.
He had a cousin there who would look after him
while at college, and, as Uncle Robert phrased it,
put him up to the ropes.
Then an American farmer called at Craigielea
and stayed for a week, telling very wonderful
stories indeed about life and adventures in the
sunny south of the United States, to all of which
Jack listened with open-mouthed earnestness.
And when this farmer went away he left poor
Mrs. Talisker in tears, for her dear boy Jack went
away with him.


1
TOM GETS READY FOR SEA.
61
Dear boy Jack did not himself take on much
about the matter, however. Indeed, though he
did manage to screw a tear or two out when say-
ing good-bye to his mother and Alicia, there cer-
tainly were no tears in his eyes as he parted with
Tom.
"Ta, ta, Old Cinder!" he said, shaking his
brother's hand. "Take care of yourself, my
Cinder; and if ever you are out our way drop
round and see us, and I'll let you ride a buck-
jumper that will toss you half-way to the moon.
Ta, ta! Be good."
The old farm was a deal quieter after Dick
and Jack had gone. There was far less whoop-
ing, or barking of dogs, or cracking of whips.
Uncle Robert said the place was not the same
at all.
Then came another change. For Captain Her-
bert walked into the house one forenoon as quietly
and coolly as if he had not been from home for
over a week. This caused the greatest change
of all, for Tom had to get ready for sea at once.
His uncle took him straight away to Glasgow to
get his outfit; and when the boy was rigged
out in his pilot suit, with gilt buttons and cap
with badge and band, very natty and neat he
looked. "Theena was very proud of him now;
but at the same time she was very sad, for those
brass buttons and that blue pilot-jacket meant
separation for many and many a long day.


62
THE PARTING.
When Tom awoke one morning and looked out
of his window he could see a beautiful black
painted barque lying at anchor in the bay, with
tall tapering spars shining white in the sunlight,
as if they had been formed of satin-wood. Then
Tom knew that his time had come.
He was not very elated about it at first. It
was so sudden; and I do trust the reader will not
think him any the less brave when I confess that
he sat down beside the window and indulged in.
the luxury of a good cry. For remember that
the boy was not very old yet. No; and I have
known many much older boys than he shed tears
at the prospect of leaving home.
He was to sail on the very next morning; and
that day he and 'Theena went to take one last
look at the hermitage and the old castle, and the
woods and wilds generally. And Tom the cat
followed them and kept close by his master all
the way.
"Poor fellow!" said the boy, stooping down to
caress his favourite; "he seems to know we are
to be parted."
(6
'Purr-rrn!" said Tom the cat. That was all
he could say, but there was more in it than either
the boy or 'Theena understood just then.
"Mind," said Tom to "Theena, as they stood
together at the window of the old castle over-
looking the woods and the sea, "I am going to
come back rich and bring your brother with me.”


AFLOAT AT LAST.
63
"I don't care so much for my brother as for
you," said 'Theena candidly. "You know you are
my brother now."
"Yes," answered Tom abstractedly.
Then hand in hand they went down the hill
and through the woods and forest, and so back
home again.
Tom's mother came to see him to bed this last
sad night, and sat long with him in the moon-
light giving him good advice-the best of which
was that he was to read the little Bible she gave
him every night, and never to forget to pray.
The bustle of starting saved everybody next
day from making much display of grief, and
everybody was thankful accordingly. Only poor
little 'Theena was half frantic, and could hardly
tear herself away from the only brother she had
ever known or loved—that is, as far as she could
remember.
But the parting was all over at last; and when
the sun sank slowly behind the waves that night
the Caledonia was far away on the western
waters, ploughing her way southward, with the
coast of Ireland a long distance on the weather-
bow.
Tom was to be apprentice, and, as he was the
only one on board, he messed in the saloon along
with Captain Herbert and the first and second
mate.
The boy had knocked about too long in his


64
A QUEER STOWAWAY.
uncle's little yacht to feel the effects of the ship's
motion in the shape of sea - sickness, so he sat
down to supper that evening in very good spirits
and with a healthy appetite.
They were just about to commence that meal,
when in at the saloon door, with tail erect and
something like a smile on his broad face, walked
Tom the black cat.
"Purr-rrn!" he said well-pleasedly as he jumped
on his master's knee and rubbed his head against
the boy's chest.
Tom was too much surprised to speak, but the
captain and mates laughed heartily.
"A stowaway!" said the former.
"Yes," said Tom. "I have no idea how he got
on board."
"Well, never mind. I'll wager a shilling he
will bring us good luck."
Black Tom was henceforth installed as ship's
cat; and the men were all most kind to him, for
every sailor of them knew that though black
cats will bring good luck to a ship, nevertheless
if ill treated or lost overboard, the luck is sure
to turn.


AT SEA.
65
CHAPTER VI.
"RUN, RUN!" CRIED TOM; "THE MAN MUST NOT
DIE YET!"
T is not often that the lines of young sailor-
place, as
of Tom Talisker on first going to sea. To begin
with, he had no extra rough work to do, as is too
often the case with apprentices, and even mid-
shipmen, on first going afloat-scrubbing and
scraping all day long, their hands in a bucket of
tar one minute, and in a bucket of "slush" the
next.
""
Make a man of my lad," had been about the
last words of Uncle Robert to his friend Captain
Herbert; and that honest old tar had proceeded
to do so forthwith, not on the old plan of first
breaking a boy's heart, and then making a bully
of him if he survived it. No, the captain put
Tom into the second mate's watch, with a request
that he should do the best he could for the lad;
and as Holborn himself, as this officer was called,
was an excellent sailor, and a kindly - hearted
though somewhat rough and uncouth individual,
he set about putting Tom up to the ropes without
loss of time.
Captain Herbert himself superintended the
(568)
E


66
AFTER THREE YEARS.
lad's book-studies, so on the whole he was well
off; and it is no wonder, therefore, that before
he had been to sea for three years he was able to
reef, steer, and do his duty both on deck and
below almost as well as Holborn could.
But all this time the Caledonia had never once
been back to England.
For Captain Herbert was quite a wandering
Jew of a sailor, and the reasons for this are not
far to seek. First and foremost, he had never
yet given up hopes that he would one day find
his lost son, and he certainly left no stone un-
turned to bring about so wished-for an event.
Secondly, he was his own master, the barque he
sailed being his own property. And thirdly, it
paid him to keep going from country to country,
as long as there was no real necessity for docking
the ship.
Not that he valued riches for his own
sake, but for the sake of 'Theena and the son he
ne'er again might look upon.
If Tom had felt a man before leaving England,
he now almost looked one. Indeed, in size and
strength he was a man quite; for whatever some
may say, the ocean certainly never stunts a
youth's growth.
He was a good sailor, too, taking the adjective
"good" in every sense of the word. Neither his
mother's advice, the second mate's care, nor Cap-
tain Herbert's kindness had been thrown away
on the boy; and on many a dark and stormy


NEAR THE END OF THE CRUISE.
67
night he proved that he was just as good as
brave.
Another year of voyaging here and there across
the face of the great waters passed away. The
Caledonia was lying at San Francisco, and the
captain intimated to the officers his intention of
bearing up for home. They would double the
Horn for the last time; then hurrah for merry
England!
There was rejoicing fore and aft at the glad
news; for if there is one word in our language
that can convey a thrill of happiness to a sailor's
heart, that word is "home." And every seaman on
board a ship carries about with him all over the
world affections and ties with the dear ones he
has left behind that nothing but death itself can
sever.
"In nine months' time, my lad," said Captain
Herbert cheerily to Tom, who was walking the
deck with his constant companion the cat at his
heels. "In nine months' time I hope we'll be
sailing up the Clyde. We shall touch at Ecuador
and at Callao, then steer away south."
It was not the first time since they had sailed
from England that the Caledonia had touched at
Ecuador, so Tom was not surprised at what the
captain now told him; for the grave of his wife
was there on that rugged shore, and it was there,
too, he had lost his boy.
"I'm getting old, Tom," he added.
I cannot


68
AN UNDYING SORROW.
do now what I could have done ten years ago,
and I fear I may never be on this coast again.”
Tom could hardly repress a sigh as he looked
at him. He certainly was getting old, and very
white in hair and beard; but probably it was
his never-ending sorrow that had aged him quite
as much as his years.
The Caledonia lay for many days near the
spot where the Southern Hope was lost. Captain
Herbert seemed to find a difficulty in tearing
himself away this time. But when at last the
wind began to blow high off the land, sail was
set and away southwards once more went the
good ship.
The captain was inexpressibly sorrowful as the
vessel left the land, and Tom felt he could have
given all he possessed in the world to dispel the
clouds that hung so heavily over his dear old
friend's heart.
But Tom was too young to let sorrow depress
him long, and that night after he had retired—
for it would not be his watch on deck till the
morning-he lay awake for hours thinking of
home. How would every one be on his return,
and how would they look?-his dear mother and
quiet kindly father, his sister, his brother, and
little "Theena? But she would not be so very
little now; and he supposed she would have for-
gotten him to a great extent, albeit she had
written many a dear affectionate child - letter,


CALLAO.
69
every one of which Tom had kept under lock
and key in his ditty-box. His mother's letters
were there also, and a score of other odds and
ends that no one knows the real value of except
a sailor. He did not fall asleep until he heard
the middle watch called, and Holborn came down
below, and with him Tom the cat; for this strange
animal evinced quite an affection for the second
mate, and frequently kept watch with him even
on stormy nights.
But he jumped now into Tom's bunk with a
little fond cry, nestled down in his arms, and the
two Toms were soon fast asleep.
The Caledonia had cargo to leave at Callao and
some to take on board; so the seamen and officers
were busy for a time, almost night and day, as
the captain was anxious now that no time should
be lost.
At last, however, the vessel was loaded up, and
nothing remained to be done except to bid some
friends good-bye, and make purchase of a few
curios to take to the old folks at home.
Tom and Captain Herbert were on shore, and
had dined at one of the best hotels. Leaving his
friend for a time Tom went out for a stroll and
to enjoy the evening breeze, for the day had been
very hot and sultry.
He stayed out longer than he had intended,
and was making the best of his way back, when,
in a side street through which he was passing by


70
THE DYING MAN.
way of taking a short cut, he came suddenly upon
a wildly-excited group of men and women, who
had rushed pell-mell and fighting from the door
of an inn.
Suddenly there was the short, sharp ring of a
revolver, then a shrill scream, and next moment
the crowd dispersed, running in all directions.
Tom hastened up to where by the dim light of
a hanging lamp he could see a man supporting
himself on his elbow, groaning and in agony.
"Are you much hurt?" asked Tom, bending
over him.
66
I'm-dying—O! I'm dying," was the man's
reply.
In the arms of the landlord of the inn and a
single watchman he was borne inside and laid on
the floor of a badly-lighted room, and soon a
medical man entered. The wounded man, a dark
evil-countenanced foreigner, lay so still and white
one might have taken him for dead.
"His hours are numbered," said the surgeon at
last. "Send for a priest."
The doomed wretch opened his eyes now.
"Yes, yes," he gasped, "a priest. I have that
on my mind I dare not die with. Boy," he con-
tinued, looking bewilderingly at Tom, "did I see
you with Herbert?"
"Captain Herbert," replied Tom, "commands
my ship."
"Kneel down beside me then," continued the


man.
A STRANGE ADVENTURE.
71
"Heaven sent you. I may yet be forgiven.
Boy, have you heard him speak of the Southern
Hope and of his steward Roderigo?"
"Yes, yes, a thousand times. Are you that
villain?"
"I am that villain."
The man had fainted again.
"Quick, quick," cried Tom, addressing the land-
lord. "Bring brandy. Run, run.
die yet."
He must not
"Who is to pay me for it?" answered the surly
fellow. "I've had enough trouble for one night."
Tom thrust money into his hand, and some
poisonously-smelling spirit was soon produced.
After a little had trickled over the throat of
the dying man he once more looked up.
"Speak slowly now," said Tom, quietly sup-
porting Roderigo with one arm. "Tell me more
about the Southern Hope and the boy Bernard.
O, tell me about him, and Captain Herbert will
forgive you for anything, everything."
"Yes, yes. The Southern Hope. We mutinied-
we expected treasure-gold and precious stones—
we found but insects, beetles, and stuffed birds.
We were wild and wanted revenge. I would
have fired the ship-but my comrades would not
hear of it. The best revenge, they said, would
be-was to but where am I?
Who are you?"
Now, tell me of
"Here, drink a little more.
the boy Bernard. You remember.
Yes, you do,


72
NEWS OF BERNARD.
I see it in your eye. Speak, if you hope for
forgiveness."
"Yes, I will confess all. But why comes not
the priest? The boy Bernard we took away-"
"Does he live, tell me that?"
"He lives."
"(
Heaven be praised!" exclaimed Tom. "O
that Captain Herbert were but here himself! Tell
me now, Roderigo, as you hope to be forgiven,
where is the son of Captain Herbert? Where did
you take him?”
"I-I know not-where he was taken-far into
the interior." The dying man was sinking fast.
"I saw a trader lately-Bernard was with the
Jivaros" (pronounced Heevaros). "He was well.
Pray for me I am dying."
What could Tom do but kneel down there
beside the poor wretch and pray for his forgive-
ness through the merits of our Saviour. It was
the first prayer he had ever presented before the
throne of grace otherwise than in the privacy of
his own cabin or in his own thoughts, and he was
surprised at his own earnestness.
"I am forgiven-I feel I am."
These were the last words of the dying Roderigo.
Just one last low sobbing sigh and all was over.
Tom wept a little now as he stretched the unhappy
man's arms by his side, and closed his eyelids.
Then he quietly took his leave.
Captain Herbert's joy at the news Tom brought


TOM'S RESOLVE.
73
him hardly knew any bounds. There was no
going on board for either of them that night; and
they sat till far into the small hours of the
morning, talking of the past and laying schemes
for the future. Or rather considering one particu-
lar scheme, which was of Tom's proposing, and
ultimately acceded to by Captain Herbert.
It was, in short, a plan of rescuing the boy, or
rather young man, Bernard, from the tribe of
warlike Indians in which he was a prisoner.
"Fain would I go with you," said the captain
"for I fear the danger will be great; but I am
feeble and far from well. I should but hinder
you and clog your every movement.”
"Captain Herbert," said Tom, "I am young if
you are getting old. I am healthy and strong
and I am not afraid of anything. I shall go as a
hunter-go as my dear uncle went, see all he saw,
do all and perhaps more than he did, and return,
I doubt not, in company with your son Ber-
nard."
"May Heaven be with you then," said the
captain.
"I am not superstitious, dear sir," continued
Tom; "but the strange dream I had has never
ceased to haunt me, and if I am instrumental in
bringing back poor Bernard to his father and
sister I shall be happy as long as I live."
So it was agreed between them that all prepara-
tions should be at once made for Tom's expedition


74
ECUADOR ONCE MORE.
into the wilds of the strange land where Bernard
was supposed to live, and in a few days after the
burial of Roderigo, whom the captain had easily
identified as his old steward, the Caledonia's head
was once more turned back towards the shores of
Ecuador.
What a sad and eventful history is that of this
lovely land of Ecuador! There is romance, too, in
every page of it; but a romance, alas! that is all
throughout stained with blood. Not the blood
spilled in battle and with honour, not the blood
of patriots and heroes, but blood spilled in civil
wars, in petty strife, and the blood of murder and
massacre.
If the purple mists of oblivion could be dis-
pelled and we had a peep of the far bygone past,
we should first find this country peopled by a race
called Quitus; subjects of a king, but altogether
lawless and independent, for the simple reason
that communications betwixt tribe and tribe were
few and far between, as in many cases were the
tribes themselves. If they kept touch with each
other it was through traditions, or through the
more tangible instrumentality of knife or spear
or poisoned dart.
Thus they may have lived and died for thousands
of years, then we read of the first invasion. For
some peoples dwelling far to the south had advanced
further in civilization than the poor Quitus, with


A TERRIBLE HISTORY.
75
the inevitable result-a desire for conquest, blood-
shed, and rapine.
They were called Karans, and made their war-
like descent upon the coast in armed boats or
rafts. These Karans went to work in the usual
way with invaders of the past-they slew the men
and old of both sexes, enslaving the women and
the girls and boys. Having once conquered the
country they kept it, just as we Britons would
have done, only we use the more refined expres-
sion "annexation."
These Karans had a fine time of it after this.
The country was such a wild and glorious one;
no need to work or do anything, except hunt and
fish and enjoy life. They called their kings
"Shyris," though there certainly was very little
shyness about any of them. As these kings waxed
richer and richer they grew more and more inde-
pendent, not to say insolent, till their fame at-
tracted the attention and inflamed the ambition of
a great Inca called Tupac Yupanqui. Then war
began in earnest, and lasted till the death of this
King Tupac. There was a short lull after that;
but, the days of his mourning being over, the
dead monarch's son Huayna-Kapak, a still more
daring warrior than his father, continued the
terrible warfare, and at length in a great battle
conquered the Karans and slew their last Shyri.
Well, the Karans were conquered; but they did
not know it, for they simply made the dear king's


76
AN EMISSARY FROM THE ENEMY.
daughter their queen and continued to fight under
her.
Huayna-Kapak found he had all his work cut
out, and that it would take him an age to kill all
these warlike Karans, who were here, there, and
everywhere at the same time. So for a time he
was nonplussed. But lo! to his tent one day
came an emissary from the enemy. He had not
come to sue for peace; very far from it-only for a
truce during the flood season, and that the dead
might be properly interred on both sides.
Perhaps Kapak was a Scotchman, anyhow he
was very canny. It would have been easy enough
for him to have deprived this emissary of his head,
but it would not have been diplomacy. Instead
of taking his head or even his scalp he treated
him very kindly and asked him as many questions
as possible, the emissary in return telling him as
many lies as he could think of. But there was
one thing on which this Karan was extremely
enthusiastic, namely, the beauty and accomplish-
ments of the young queen. She was more lovely
and radiant than the most beautiful bird in the
forest, and she was as brave as a jaguar. Well,
the canny Inca went to bed and dreamt about all
the Karan had told him, and he was not any
better when he came to breakfast next morning-
he was in love. Why should we fight against so
charming a queen? It would be easier to conquer
the Karans by marrying her. So an interview


A VICTIM TO TREACHERY.
77
was arranged and a marriage next, and this bold
but love-smitten Inca never went back-another
proof, I think, that he must have been of Scotch
descent-but dwelt in Quitu or Ecuador and ruled
over his people for forty years.
After his death the kingdom became divided
into two, for the king left one part of it, namely
Cusco, to Huascar, half-brother to Atchualpa, the
king's son by his Shyri queen, the latter falling
heir to Quitu proper.
Huascar was a quarrelsome fellow, and finally he
declared war on his half-brother, but was defeated
and thrown into prison. Poor Atchualpa some
time after this fell a victim to treachery, his
retainers were brutally massacred and he himself
strangled.
After this the government of Ecuador became
pretty much of a muddle. A chief called Rumiña-
gui made himself King of Quitu first, but the
Spaniards determined to put him down. He
was beaten in battle after battle, and on getting
nearer to the capital this reckless and cruel chief
massacred the "virgins of the sun" and burned
the city.
He found time to remove even all his
gold and treasure, which he took with him to the
wilds, burying them in a mountain, which still
bears his own name. Some day a portion of this
treasure, which I am told is still concealed at the
base of this mighty hill, may be discovered by
some adventurous boy who leaves this country
"----


78
UNDER SPANISH RULE.
with twopence-halfpenny in his pocket, and who
will, after killing wild beasts innumerable, return
to England and live happy ever after.
The Spaniards now came into possession of the
country, and after a deal of additional wars and
a great deal of massacre and bloodshed, Ecuador
became a republic. This happened about sixty
years ago, and ever since it has been as much a
prey to rebellions and revolutions as to earth-
quakes, being probably less happy and contented
even now than when it was governed by the
easy going kings of the Shyri dynasty. The
greater portion of the country east of the Andes
is clad in dense forests, and inhabited by wild
beasts and still wilder men. And it was into
this wilderness our hero Tom was now about to
penetrate.
CHAPTER VII.
HERE HANGS HIS BROTHER'S SCALP."
HE scene is changed.
THE
And such a change!
It is but little more than a fortnight since
Tom was busily engaged getting cargo on board
the Caledonia at the noisy and far from romantic
seaport of Callao. It is little over a week since
he bade adieu to Captain Herbert and his friends.


1
STARTING FOR THE WILDS.
79
in the ship, and started from Guayaquil on his
daring journey into the wilds of this veritable
land of mountain and flood. It is little over a
week, and yet it seems an age, and here he is at
Riobamba; a town of strange low houses, few
of which can boast more than a single apartment,
but standing in their own grounds nevertheless.
A town which does not look very imposing from
a distance, and certainly does not improve on
closer acquaintance; built on a sandy plain, in
sight of and surrounded by the highest giants of
the Andes.
It is night, and Tom, tired of wandering through
the streets, is returning to the outskirts, where
his little encampment is stationed. He prefers
the company of Indians even, to a sojourn for
even a single night in the inexpressibly filthy
rooms of the city.
It is quieter, too, here; the silence only broken
occasionally by the yelping of half-wild curs
quarrelling over their carrion, or the cries of the
night-birds. The moon is shining very clearly,
and the stars look so near that the snow-capped
mountains seem far above them. Yonder is the
far-famed Chimborazo; Altur is also in sight, with
its precipitous and rugged sides, and Carhuairazo,
and mighty Tinguragua.
It is seldom indeed that they can be seen so
distinctly as they are to-night; but when the
moon rises slowly up into the deep-blue sky,


80
TOM'S TOLDO.
flooding all the scene with its dreamy light, the
view on every side is grand in the extreme.
.
And those everlasting hills, the brilliant moon,
and the silvery stars, are to Tom's mind but steps
in a ladder that leads his thoughts to heaven
itself. He is so impressed with the solemnity of
the whole scene, that before he retires to his tent
he must needs kneel down and pray. He has
much to pray for; he has not thoughtlessly
entered upon the undertaking which has hardly
yet commenced. He knew all the dangers to
which he would be exposed; and although the
very idea of being a lonely wanderer through
Ecuador wilds appealed to the romance of his
character, he would not willingly have risked
his young life had not a greater reward than
pleasure only seemed to depend upon the success
of his expedition, namely, the realization of his
dream, and the finding of lost Bernard Herbert.
So he prayed now for a blessing on his endea-
vours; and for an unseen hand to support him
in his journeyings, and to shield him from the
dangers in forest, in jungle, and plain.
He rose refreshed in spirit, and soon reached
his little toldo. His people had built themselves
a hut of branches and grass, to shield them from
the sun and rain by day and the dews at night.
But three of them were waiting to receive him at
his toldo door. This toldo, I may here mention,
was a kind of gypsy tent of canvas. It had been


THE INDIANS.
81
Captain Herbert's last gift to him before they
parted, and was made by the sailors on board
the Caledonia.
It had not been difficult for Tom to secure
servants for his expedition into the interior. He
had fifty volunteers at least, and from these he
chose five. Most of whom were real Indians, with
a little Spanish blood in them. Active, young, and
strong fellows every one of them, though certainly
far from good-looking. Neither were they tall.
Tom towered above them like a giant, or as the
great volcanic crater of Cotapaxi towers above
the neighbouring mountains. I believe each and
all of his servants were just a little proud of their
young white master, and just a little afraid as
well. Tom, during the long years he had
spent at sea, had not only developed immense
strength, but something of a quick and imperious
temper as well. Not that he was a bad-natured
fellow by any means, only he would have things
done his own way; he would be obeyed, and he
had a pair of eyes that looked a man through
and through while he issued an order or asked a
question. In brief, Tom was not to be trifled with.
As he now approached his toldo, three Indians
who had been squatting in the shade walked
forth a few paces to meet him, bowed, and stood
silently leaning on their tall spears, waiting for
their white chief to speak. In their dark cotton
ponchos and trowserets, if I may coin a word,
(568)
F


82
DE DEBIL.
their heads dressed in tall feathers, and a bold,
half-defiant look on the face of each, they cer-
tainly looked picturesque enough.
They were Indians of different tribes-a Canelo,
a Napo, and a Thaparo; but as Tom had them
armed and dressed precisely alike, it would have
been difficult for a stranger to have seen much
difference in them, by moonlight at all events.
"Well, men," said Tom, stopping in front of
them, "what is the news?"
"De news is," said Tootu, the Canelo, for he
was usually spokesman, his English being the
best. "De news is dat de Tapir and de Wild
Turkey hab eet plenty and go to sleep like pigs,
and dat de Debil hab come, señor."
Oko and Taoh both bowed, as if to confirm the
information, startling though it sounded.
Tootu, Taoh, and Oko, signifying wind, fire,
and water, were Tom's principal men at present.
The Tapir and the Wild Turkey were savages of
a lower cast, and fit only to look after the horses
and dogs, of which there were five of the former
and three of the latter. "De Debil" himself was
the guide par excellence, and for him they had
been waiting for two or three days. His name
in Indian language was Samaro, and Samaro we
must call him in future, though it means much
the same.
'Light the lamp in my toldo, Tootu, and we
will receive Samaro,"


1
AN AWFUL ORNAMENT.
83
The lamp was lit, and Tom, somewhat tired of
his rambling walk, threw himself on a mat on
the ground. On this mat was curled no less a
personage than Black Tom, the cat, who re-
sponded to Tom's caress with his usual fond
purr-rrn.
An attempt had been made to keep this strange
puss on board, but all in vain. He had watched
his master's every movement, and when one of
the sailors had attempted to catch him, with the
intention of shutting him up, Black Tom had
made it very hot indeed for that particular
sailor. He had been glad enough to let him
go.
And now Samaro entered.
Samaro was a very clever and very remarkable-
looking Indian. Almost as tall as Tom himself,
though probably double his age, with straight
dark hair, and eyes of a piercing black, his face
almost white, and singularly handsome. His
poncho was of some light-coloured fur, and rather
voluminous; while, as he stood with it thrown
back over the arm which held his high feather-
adorned spear and shield as well, in his girdle
could be seen an ugly and business-like knife,
and also a huge revolver. On his head was a
cap of feathers, and there were toucan's tails
dangling to his girdle at one side, and something
very dreadful to behold at the other. This was
nothing more nor less than the complete skin of


84
A SURPRISE.
the head and face of an enemy killed in battle,
filled out with moss, but shrivelled to the size of
a cocoa-nut, the features awfully pinched and
contorted, and the whole appearance of the hor-
rible ornament ugly enough to give one the
nightmare.
(c
Señor Samaro?" said Tom.
"De Debil, señor, at your service."
"We will call you Samaro."
<<
<<
'Si, señor.
Samaro will do."
'Well, Samaro, I like the looks of you; though
I don't admire that ornament at your belt."
"I do not admire that ornament at your side,
señor."
"That," said Tom laughing. "O, that is my
pet cat; and he must be your friend as well as
mine."
"C
(6
That is well. I will love him."
Then we won't quarrel."
"No, we cannot. I have a reason to respect
you. I was guide to a good white man before.
It is many, many years ago. Ten years and ten
moons, señor."
"He was kind to you?"
"Ah, yes, he was kind to me.
forget him."
""
His name?"
I shall never
"Robert-Señor Robert. I think his other
name was Sinclair."
"C
Samaro!" cried Tom, springing up and clasp-


WIND, FIRE, AND WATER.
85
Sit
ing the astonished Indian by the hand. "That
was my Uncle Robert. How pleased I am.
down. Here Tootu, Taoh, Oko-wind, fire, and
water, where are you? Sit down on my mat,
Samaro."
So loudly had Tom shouted, that Wind, Fire,
and Water rushed into the toldo like a first-class
hurricane, almost upsetting each other in their
eagerness.
it.'
""
"(
Bring coffee and food, and be smart about
Samaro," he continued, "this is delightful!
How glad I am to have met you. There, look,
even my friend, the cat, is getting fond of you."
Samaro stroked Black Tom somewhat dubiously.
Then he looked up.
"Señor," he said.
"Yes, Samaro."
"This is not your private debil, is it?”
(6
No, no. I assure you it is not. I do not
keep a private debil. I shouldn't know what to
do with one.'
""
"Then, señor," said Samaro in a low voice, and
with one rapid glance towards the toldo entrance,
"we will say so. We will tell the boys it is your
evil spirit."
"But why, Samaro?"
66
Why, señor, it may save your life many
times during your stay in the wilds."
Black Tom was meanwhile walking back and


86
CLEVER BUT NOT GOOD.
fore betwixt his master and Samaro, with his tail
very erect indeed, singing loudly, and evidently
doing his best to cement a friendship thus
strangely begun.
"Samaro, do you remember all my dear uncle's
adventures?"
"Yes, and all he said. Is the dear señor
alive?"
"I trust so. Well, we will oftentimes talk of
him. I think, Samaro, you are a good man."
Samaro laughed aloud, but not disrespect-
fully.
"I am clever," he said; "but not good. He! he!
O, no; goodness does not pay. I am a thorough
blackguard."
"Samaro, you astonish me! And I don't believe
you."
"But I have been told so. I have fought
plenty, I have scalped my enemies, I have
revelled in bloodshed."
"But you never have betrayed a friend?"
'No, no, no; sooner would Samaro die.'
""
"And you speak the truth, do you not?"
"Yes. Because one lie told requires five more
to shore it up.'
"Shore it up?" said Tom. "That is a sailor's
expression. Where did you acquire it?"
"6
From your good uncle.
been to sea.
""
"You have been to Callao?"
But I have much


SOLD AS A SLAVE.
87
I know every one there. I have been all
over the world too."
"Do you know that my uncle's ship was seized
by mutineers, with one Roderigo at their head?"
"I know all the story."
"Samaro, do you know the reason why I am
going all alone to the wilds-I mean without a
white companion?"
""
<<
Like your uncle, you go to hunt."
'No, that is not my chief reason. Samaro,
listen. The captain of that unhappy ship had a
son-a boy-who was stolen from his parents,
and carried into the interior—”
He was
He was
"No, no," interrupted Samaro.
carried no farther than here at first.
sold here at Riobamba as a slave, and by Indians
taken away across the terrible mountains. Rode-
rigo is a foul fiend! See here," he continued, his
dark eyes blazing with excitement. "Roderigo
had a brother, a fierce Spaniard, likewise a fiend;
I killed him. Here hangs his brother's scalp,
and I have sworn that Roderigo's shall hang
beside it."
(6
'Samaro, Roderigo is dead."
Samaro laughed, a grim and ghastly laugh.
"I know the story. I too have a brother. It
was my brother who slew Roderigo. He has his
scalp by this time. The grave could not hide his
foe long from my brother's gaze."
"Samaro," said Tom, "you almost make me


88
THE CHIEF GUIDE'S STORY.
shudder. Surely this villain Roderigo has done
you and your brother some irreparable injury?"
Samaro's face grew dark as night.
"Had Roderigo a thousand lives," he said, "he
should yield them slowly up one by one before
he could atone for the injury he did to me and
mine. We will say no more now.
Believe only
this, he—this fiend Roderigo-slew my mother,
burned our huts, and stole my brother's wife and
child."
"So terrible a subject," said Tom, “is best
allowed to rest. But richly indeed did the wretch
deserve his fate."
Samaro sat in silence sipping his coffee for
some time after this. But gradually the troubled
look that had crept over his face left it, and soon
he was talking again cheerfully enough.
<<
And so," said Samaro, "I am henceforth to be
your guide."
"You are to be my chief guide, my steward,
my counsellor, and my head man in every way."
Samaro smiled in a pleased way.
"We will begin to get ready at once-to-morrow
morning at sunrise," he said, "if it so please you,
señor."
"That will do, Samaro. I long to be on the
road. But one other question I wish to ask you
before you retire. Have you any guess as to
where Bernard Herbert is or what is his con-
dition?"


SAMARO IS NOT HOPEFUL.
89
"Absolutely none as to his condition, but he
was taken away by the Jivaros."
"Just what the dying Roderigo told me."
((
'There was a lady, too," continued Samaro, "a
delicate young girl, sold at the same time. She
came from the far east in your uncle's ship, and
had been nurse to Mr. Herbert's child."
""
'Yes, yes; that was the ayah. Did they ill-
treat her?"
"C
'No; they were afraid of her. They looked
upon her as a being from another world."
"Did she go with the boy?"
"She did."
<<
'Then we may find both?"
'I fear neither."
"What?"
"I give you no hope of finding either. But we
may."
Ah! yes, Samaro, we may. Good-night. I'll
sleep and dream on that hope."
66
Good-night."
CHAPTER VIII.
"NEVER BEFORE HAD TOM EXPERIENCED SUCH
A FEELING OF AWFUL DANGER."
AMARO had been exceedingly well recom-
SAMAR
mended to Tom as a perfect guide for the
wilds, but the very fact that he had been with


90
THE HERMIT HUNTER'S OUTFIT.
his uncle would in itself have been the best of
testimony in the man's favour.
He proved himself most active and energetic
from the first.
And there was quite a deal to be seen to. All
stores of every kind had been brought from the
ship and from Guayaquil, and shortly after sun-
rise Samaro proceeded to muster his forces and
take stock of everything.
The stores were a medley; but the heaviest
packages were those that contained articles for
barter with the Indians of the interior, and these
consisted chiefly of light cloth, thread, needles,
pins, beads, axes, knives, spear-heads, looking-
glasses, an African tom-tom, and a couple of Ger-
man concertinas. Many of these things would
be given away as presents, and there was even a
gun or two that might also change hands.
The stores for the use of Tom himself and his
Indian followers consisted for the most part of
the tent, a grass hammock, a few blankets, with
plenty of rifles, revolvers, and ammunition. Fish-
ing gear had not been forgotten, nor useful tools
of various sorts, to say nothing of preserved meats
and a few simple medicines.
Such was the outfit of the Hermit Hunter of
the Wilds. A hermit of the old school might
have been content with far less, but your modern
wanderers do not despise anything which science
may suggest as likely to add to their comfort.


ROUGHING IT.
91
The horses were wiry, useful, willing beasts;
strong too, and as sure-footed as mules even.
The dogs were probably better than they looked.
Mongrel greyhounds they were not unlike a
breed we find in Australia under the name of
kangaroo-hounds.
The packages were carried by the horses in
light, wicker baskets saddle fashion, and all were
covered with waterproof canvas.
Tom had already enjoyed some of the delights
of Ecuador travelling-if, indeed, there was very
much delight in it-and his adventures as far as
Riobamba would be worth relating were it not
that those which followed were far more thril-
ling. But there had been rivers to cross, over
tumble-down bridges, mountains to climb along
tracks called roads which sheep in England would
disdain, deep forests to force through, and long
stretches of sandy plains to struggle over by
paths that seemed interminable.
But although the rainy season was scarcely
past the weather had been comparatively fine; and
the scenery, ever varying, according to the alti-
tude above the sea-level, was at times beautiful
in the extreme, or grand even to awesome sub-
limity.
Tom was fond of nature in all her varied as-
pects, and all through his journeyings he had the
pleasant companionship of birds and flowers and
ferns, to say nothing of many a little forest friend


92
ON HIS WAY TO THE WILDERNESS.
in fur, that hardly thought of running away, so
unused were the creatures of the wilds to the
presence of man.
The greater part of the population of Riobamba
turned out to see Tom start.
In addition to the pack-horses he had brought
two others to ride-one for himself and the other
for Samaro. This guide went on first, then Tom
and the others followed in Indian file.
It was a delightful morning, with a breeze
blowing from the distant mountain slopes of
Chimborazo; and the throng of Indians spear-
armed and clad in their gay-coloured ponchos,
the huts and houses, the cattle, horses, and
strange-looking llamas, the greenery of the shrubs
and bushes, the jagged hills and blue sky above,
flecked with many a fleecy cloud, made up a scene
that was both beautiful and picturesque.
But all was soon left behind, and solitude
reigned supreme.
The pack-horses and men were lagging behind.
Samaro was a long way ahead, and when Tom
pulled rein and looked about him, hearing nothing
but the rustling of the wind through the wild
corn and dark-leaved aloe bushes, he realized for
the first time that he was really on his way to
the wilderness.
All the year round the sun sets about six
o'clock in the land of Ecuador, and a full hour
before that time Tom gave orders for the halt;


.
AMONG THE CREEPIES.
93
and not far from the banks of a river the tent
or toldo was erected, and supper prepared. It
would have been easy to have pushed on a few
miles farther to the village of Penipe, but for the
time-being at all events Tom was independent of
villages of any kind. Nor did he have a very
high opinion of the cooking and accommodation
to be obtained therein. Certainly in a town a
greater amount of so-called civilization was to be
met with; but there the insects were more civi-
lized too. That is how Tom Talisker argued.
Out in the open country, even in the bush, al-
though these plagues were to be met with in every
shape and form-flying beetles, gigantic mosqui-
toes, cockroaches, earwigs, scorpions, centipeds,
and winged bugs, to say nothing of a host of other
creepie-creepies, they were wild; while, on the
other hand, those that dwelt in houses were tame,
disgustingly so, and au fait in all the ways of the
world. Besides, there was in the open the bless-
ings obtainable from fresh air.
-
I have already said that hermit hunter though
he was Tom did not despise his comforts. On my
honour now, I think he would have been a fool if
he had. What good would it have done himself
or anybody else had he dressed in sackcloth and
ashes? He could have gotten plenty of both in
Ecuador had his fancy led him to adopt so sad a
costume. But it did not. He preferred alpaca
and fine linen, and he actually carried an excel-


94
TUCKED IN FOR THE NIGHT.
lent hunting watch. Every night, too, while in the
wilderness he had his tent erected, his hammock
slung, and the whole of the latter neatly sur-
rounded by a mosquito curtain. If ever, dear
reader, you go to the wilds, I advise you to adopt
the same plan.
Well then, after Samaro had tucked his master
in, as you might say, he threw up one side of the
tent, and lo! the sweet pure air of heaven swept
in. The creepies came too-some of them at all
events. The scorpions and centipeds had not a
chance, and the flying "ferlies" could only grind
their mandibles outside the curtain. Mosquitoes
are very insinuating though, and if there had been
a hole in the curtain big enough to admit the end
of a pencil some enterprising mosquito would have
found it out and forthwith started a limited lia-
bility company, thousands would have joined, and
before morning Tom's face would have been a
sight to see in the looking-glass—that is, if see-
ing was any longer a possibility.
"Stay and talk with me to-night," said Tom,
after Samaro had tucked him in. Throw up the
tent that I may see the stars. That's right. Now
smoke."
66
Is this going to be the order of our evenings?"
said Samaro.
It will be observed that this man talked excel-
lent English, and well he might: he had lived in
every country under the sun,


SNAKES.
95
"Yes," replied Tom, "if you don't mind. You
see, it is too soon to go to sleep, and if I have the
lamp lit we will have more flying things about
us than I care for."
To keep stray pumas, or a wandering and in-
quisitive jaguar-the American tiger, at a re-
spectable distance, a fire of wood was lit every
evening, and near this lay talking low, and some-
times singing strange uncouth lilts of love and
war, Tom's five men. There was one drawback
to their pleasure-the snakes. But it was a very
slight one; for as a rule snakes do not bite unless
you tread on their tails. They take good care
you never tread on their heads; they glide away
quickly enough to save the front portions of their
anatomy. It is the after-part of the procession
that cannot be got away in time to save itself,
and when the unhappy man's foot comes down
the snake strikes at once, and there is but little
chance of life after that.
Well, when one goes first to the wilderness, if
he be a green hand, or tender-foot as the Yankees
call a novice, he keeps thinking about snakes all
day long, and they even follow him into his
dreams, fevering body as well as mind, and de-
stroying all chance of perfect happiness. But a
few weeks in the wilds harden even a tender-
foot, and he finds out as his face gets browner
that even snakes never bite except in self-defence,
and that if he observes ordinary caution he is


96
SAMARO'S STORIES.
as safe on the plains as he would be in Hyde
Park.
"O," said Samaro, "I shall be very much
pleased."
"Well then, tell me a story, and sing me a song
if you can. I want to feel perfectly at home."
And Samaro not only this night but every night
almost told Tom stories of his wild life and ad-
ventures, and sang him songs, just as if he had
been a little boy at home in his own bed-room.
And to tell the truth Tom used very often to go
to sleep before Samaro had done singing.
Tom, the black cat, invariably retired to the
hammock with his master. By day he rode on
the saddle sometimes, or he might disappear
altogether for half a day at a time. Black Tom
was permitted to do precisely as he pleased, and
that is the secret of his affection for White
Tom.
Tom was never tired hearing Samaro tell all
about Uncle Robert's adventures, and, to a great
extent, he determined to do very much as his
uncle had done.
"It will be such a surprise, you know," he told
Samaro, "to collect precisely the same kind of
curios, and skins of birds and beasts, and butter-
flies, and beetles as Uncle Robert did. Why,
when I go home and show him all these, he will
be as happy as the good little boys in the fairy-
books."


BIRD-SKINS AND BUTTERFLIES.
97
This was a happy thought, and Samaro en-
tered into the scheme with great spirit and
joy.
Between Riobamba, therefore, and Banyos they
spent three whole weeks. But bird skins and
butterflies were almost the sole objects that Tom
collected in these regions. They had hardly yet
come to lions and tigers. He gathered, however,
specimens of ore, which Samaro assured him con-
tained gold as well as other precious metals.
Sometimes they met wandering bands of
Indians. They were quiet and civil as yet, but
they were extremely curious to know what
brought the white hunter to these regions.
They were satisfied each and all of them with
Samaro's explanations. All Englishmen were
mad, the guide told them, except a very few,
and these were fools.
Seeing Tom pursuing bright-winged butterflies
they naturally concluded he belonged to the latter
section.
"It is well it should be thought so," said
Samaro. "Your fame and reputation will go
before you into the wilds."
"My reputation as a fool-eh?" said Tom
laughing.
(6
Yes, as a fool. Then if your friend Bernard
does indeed live among the Jivaros, you will be
more likely to find and free him. They will not
suspect a fool."
(568)
G


98
PERILS OF TRAVEL.
They found the horses very handy at present;
but by and by the country would be far too
wild to make any use of them.
The dogs, however, were as yet of little ser-
vice. However they occasionally caught a cavy
or agouti, and these, roasted whole in gypsy
fashion, formed occasionally a very appetizing
supper.
Fruit was everywhere abundant here, and eggs
of various kinds of birds added considerably to
the contents of the larder.
The rain, however, spoiled many a good day's
sport, and always after a "spate" or downfall
the streams became swollen.
They would have to ford these at times with
considerable risk; while at other times they
found bridges. But terrible bridges they were.
It really makes me shudder a little to think of
them, although I am not much given to shudder-
ing as a general rule. The best of them were
suspension bridges, and the method adopted in
their construction was simplicity itself. Three
or four chains were swung across the stream and
tied to the tree trunks, and on these pieces of
wood were fastened with withes, and lo! the
bridge was complete, but fearfully unsafe. They
were very high above the water to prevent their
being washed away during floods, and as they
were stretched over the narrowest gulleys, the
water beneath rushed onward with such rapidity,


AN ADVENTURE ON A BRIDGE.
99
that the strongest swimmer that ever lived would
not have had the ghost of a chance for his life
had he fallen off the bridge.
Imagine if you can horses having to cross such
a bridge. But they often had to.
Tom had one adventure on a bridge that he is
never likely to forget. He was all alone too;
that is, no human being was within reach.
About four miles down a stream he had found a
ford in the morning, but on returning about an
hour before sunset he came to this fearful bridge
and determined to cross over. He tied his horse
up first, then ventured on himself, and went
backwards and forwards several times to test its
strength. The bridge was not more than four
feet wide, but felt firm enough, and it was all
right with Tom so long as he did not let his
eyes fall in the direction of the roaring, tumbling
torrent far down beneath. If he did so for a
moment he felt as if the whole structure were
gliding from under him.
But now for the horse. It was not difficult to
get the wise creature on, though he walked with
excessive care and caution, feeling his way as it
were step by step, with his eyes fixed steadfastly
on the bank beyond.
Tom walked on before holding the bridle. The
bridge bent as they neared the centre till it
assumed almost the shape of a hammock, and
Tom began to think it must break. He kept up


100
A SUDDEN SQUALL.
his heart, however, and with gentle, encouraging
words urged his beast to follow.
They had reached the middle when, without
the slightest warning, a squall came suddenly
roaring down the gulley, and the bridge began
to sway and swing and creak and crack. Never
in his lifetime before had Tom experienced such
a feeling of awful danger. The horse stood still
now, shaking with dread, and emitting a low,
frightened kind of a whinny, while the sweat
poured over his hoofs.
Tom crouched lower and lower to save himself
from falling, but he still kept hold of the bridle;
for even in the extremity of his own danger, he
did not forget that the touch from man's hand
gives confidence to the brute, even when seem-
ingly paralysed with terror.
The squall luckily did not last many minutes.
Then it fell calm again, and in a very short time
he and his faithful horse were safely across. But
even then he dared scarcely look back and down
into that frightful chasm that seemed to have
been yawning hungrily for his life.


FORDS AND BRIDGES.
101
<<
CHAPTER IX.
THE WHOLE SEA OF MIST TURNED TO CLOUDS
OF MINGLED GOLD AND CRIMSON."
HE crossing of streams, either by swing-
bridges or through fords in which the
water roared and rushed with the rapidity of a
mill-stream, constituted a source of ever-recurr-
ing danger. The bridges at times were of even
simpler construction than that already described,
especially if the stream or chasm were narrow,
for then two trees, or perhaps but one, would
have to do duty as a support for the cross-pieces
of wood; and as these latter were often so rotten
that they snapped in two with the weight of a
man, it may easily be perceived that the comfort
and feeling of security while on them were but
slight.
As a rule the natives have but little faith in
these frail and fearful structures, and will go a
long distance round to find a ford; unless indeed
they are intoxicated, which they too often are
when a chance occurs. But the bridges as a
rule are left standing until they fall with the
weight of some unlucky wight.
I have said that the horses were exceedingly
sure-footed. So they needed to be; for the tracks
in this mountain-land sometimes went winding


102
A PUMA IN THE PATH.
alongside of frightful precipices, and the danger
was quite as great in coming down as in going
up.
But a horse occasionally got frightened, and
lost for a time all his presence of mind.
One day Tom was riding on in front on just
such a pathway as that I have mentioned. It
was nowhere more than five feet wide; the
mountain rising steep close on one side, the
yawning gulf at the other, with bushes clinging
to its edges. Stones occasionally came tumbling
down from above with a hurtling noise; but
when they rolled over the precipice they were
heard no more, for they had fallen into space,
and the sudden silence was awfully suggestive.
Now and then came a sharp angle or curve in
the pathway; and here the danger was at its
height, for you could no longer see where the
road led. You were riding right on to the cliff;
and it was impossible to divest the mind of the
idea that next moment the horse you bestrode
would be pawing the air, as he and you were
being hurled to destruction.
It was close to such an eeriesome and uncanny
corner as this, and immediately after he had
passed it, that Tom found himself face to face
with a puma, coming along the narrow pathway
with long, stealthy, lynx-like steps. The beast
was as much startled as anyone. He emitted
one low growl, then immediately turned to fly.



JAT.B.
568
TOM MEETS A PUMA ON THE MOUNTAIN PATH.





HALF OVER THE CLIFF.
103
Nothing but instant action could have saved
Tom's life now, for the horse reared and swerved
half over the cliff, as his rider threw himself off
against the hill and clung to some rhododendron
bushes. He had not quitted hold of the bridle,
and slight though this support was it probably
saved his horse. The beast's hind-legs and thighs
had almost disappeared. His nostrils were dis-
tended, and his eyes seemed to flash dark fire, as
for a moment he hung 'twixt life and death.
The shuddering, quivering groan the poor brute
gave when he once more stood safe on the path
was evidence of his appreciation of the terrible
danger he had just escaped.
It will be easily seen, therefore, that travelling
in Ecuador is fraught with many perils, and one
may truly be said to take the road with his life
in his hand. As far as our hero was concerned,
however, this spice of danger certainly did not
detract from the pleasures of the journey. He
was nevertheless most careful before setting out
of a morning to see that his horse and all the
horses had been well fed and harnessed; for this
concerned the safety of the poor brutes as well.
as his own. So simple an accident as the loosen-
ing of a belly-band has ere now in this wild land
resulted in horse and rider being precipitated
over a mountain-side, or swept from a ford into
the rapids of some swollen river.
Dangers come when least looked for; nothing


104
THE REGION OF PERPETUAL SNOW.
is certain when travelling except the unexpected,
and it is always prudent to be prepared.
But I do not mean to hold my hero up as a
paragon of prudence, or any other virtue for
that matter; and I have to confess that his love
of nature, and his search for the beautiful and
the picturesque, often led him into difficulties he
might otherwise have steered clear of.
"I say, Samaro," he said one night to his
major-domo, "I have a notion to climb one of
these lofty mountains. Up into the region of
perpetual snow. Do you understand?"
"I understand, señor; but "
Well, what?"
"Your uncle would not have dared to do so."
"O, I shall dare more than my uncle ever
dared. And whatever a man dares he can do."
"Well, señor, I am ready. Will you start
to-morrow?"
"Yes. The hill is at hand, or mountain rather;
and it does not seem difficult to ascend. Looks
quite near, indeed."
"Excuse me, señor," said Samaro, "if I take
the liberty of laughing. The mountain certainly
seems near, but so does the moon. The air is
very clear, señor.”
Well, all the better for us."
Tom was early astir next morning; but early
though it was he found Samaro busy enough.
He was squatting under a bush, making for him-


A TOILSOME ASCENT.
105
self what looked to Tom something like a pair of
leather breeches with feet attached.
"Ah! I see," said Tom.
"You expect it will
be cold up yonder, so you are utilizing a puma's
skin."
"I have been there before," said Samaro,
"with-"
""
With whom?"
"A mad Englishman.”
"O! and now you will have to pilot a fool?"
"Si, señor."
"Well, are you nearly ready, Mr. Guide?"
"I am ready," replied Samaro; "and,” he added,
pointing upward at the mighty Tinguragua, "the
mountain is ready and waiting also."
The journey and ascent, for it was both com-
bined, were now commenced.
"There is no occasion to hurry," said Tom; "we
will take it easy."
Well, mountain climbing does always seem easy
at first; but, anyhow, Tom was now in grand form:
his limbs were as hard and tough as hawsers, and
it would have taken a good deal to make his
heart palpitate. On they went, and soon leaving
the river's bank they penetrated into the depths
of the primeval forest, and following a little track
made by some wild animals in their nightly visits
to the river, began to ascend.
The company consisted of Tom and his guide,
with Tootu, Taoh, and Oko carrying ropes, axes,


106
THE TROPICAL FOREST.
arms, provisions, and blankets. It was wonder-
ful how well these three honest fellows agreed.
As a rule wind, fire, and water do not pull well
together when they meet, but in this case they
did. Tootu was usually spokesman; but what-
ever he said, the other two, fire and water, were
ready to chime in with, and swear to if need be.
Onwards and upwards they journeyed now for
hours, the pathway sometimes so steep that they
had to clamber on their hands and knees.
Onwards and upwards, then onwards and down-
wards. This was the worst of it. It was as try-
ing to the nerves as the temper. It did seem a
pity that, after they had reached a certain eleva-
tion, they should be confronted with a ravine
into the very bottom of which the pathway led
them before taking them onwards and upwards
again. It was like having to do the ascent twice
over. But there was no help for it.
Tom was amply rewarded, however, by the
beauty of the tropical forest. I should search in
vain through the tablets of my memory for words
in which to express the charm and singularity of
those woodlands. On the lower grounds, indeed,
the vegetation was all a wild and lovely tangle,
representing on an enormous scale the struggle
for existence that has been going on here for
ages. It was one great and continued fight for
the sunlight, in which to some extent and for a
time the largest and strongest trees gained the


STRANGE SCENERY.
107
victory. But the smaller and weaker plants, the
splendidly-flowered creepers, the mosses, the
orchids, and lesser ferns were not to be denied.
There was nowhere they would not go, no height
to which they would not aspire and climb. They
draped the tree-stems and branches with blos-
soms, it is true; but by and by that very wealth
of trailing, hanging, waving beauty proved the
downfall of the most lordly giants of the forest;
and when winds swept through the woods they
came down with a crash, and in a few weeks had
disappeared off the face of the earth. For here
a fallen trunk is seldom seen, in such teeming
myriads do busy - footed insects work on the
ground and beneath it.
Out at last came the wanderers upon a higher
region still, and now they had to traverse for
miles a kind of hilly plateau that looked alto-
gether like the work of some wonderful landscape
gardener. It was a plateau covered with in-
numerable little tree-clad, fern-clad, moss-clad,
flower-covered hills, with rocks in the shape of
gray needles, silvery boulders, square towers,
domes, and minarets, peeping up through the
foliage everywhere. Round and
Round and among these
wound many a little footpath-the footpaths of
wild beasts-but none, probably, more dangerous
than the timid agouti, the cavy, or peccary. Oc-
casionally they crossed small meandering streams
that appeared here and there, popping out from


108
REST BY THE WAY.
banks of foliage or gushing and trickling from
the hill-sides, and disappearing again soon in the
same mysterious manner.
Add to this "garden wide and wild” birds that
flutter from bough to bough, many silent but of
rainbow radiance, others gray and brown and
hardly seen, but trilling forth such melody as
can be heard from no other feathered songsters
on earth; add to it radiant butterflies and moths
in clouds; bees also, some of enormous size and
dangerous wrathful appearance; and snakes bask-
ing on the moss of rocks, gliding swiftly through
the little glades, or hanging asleep on the bushes.
Close to a tiny stream of clear water Tom sat
down; the weary carriers threw down their bur-
dens, and a welcome meal was made of biscuits
and fruit, and a long rest taken before resuming
the ascent.
The great mountain was there before them
still, looking as big and far steeper than when
they started.
The foliage changed now, and some parts of
the mountain over which they climbed were
all ablaze with tree- rhododendrons, while the
perfume of wild heliotrope filled the air. Heaths,
too, were abundant, many of which put Tom in
mind of those he had wandered among on the
mountains of the Cape of Good Hope.
Climbing began in earnest soon after this; and
no one spoke, but clambered on and up in silent


TEN THOUSAND FEET UP.
109
earnestness. Just about sunset they found them-
selves once more on a vast plateau, on which grew
only the scantiest herbage. After crossing this
they found a small cave in the mountain-side, and
here for the night the bivouac was made.
While dinner was being prepared Tom climbed
higher up still and sat himself down on a rock;
but the vastness and grandeur of the scene, and
its indescribable silence and solemnity, must be
left to the reader's imagination.
He must have been fully ten thousand feet
above the sea-level; and yet the snowy craters
of Carhuairazo, just visible over the bluff bare
brow of the mountain, still towered high above
him.
Far below was an ocean of lesser hills, of woods
and plains and smiling valleys, with streams that
looked like trickling rills or silver threads among
the green, and here and there a glassy lake.
The sun went down in a blaze of glory, and he
now hastened below to enjoy repose and a well-
earned dinner.
About nine o'clock, though the stars had been
very bright before this, a storm-cloud passed over
the mountain-side, with a roaring wind, heavy
rain, and thunder and lightning. After this Tom
went out to have one more look at the scene be-
fore turning in. Nothing was now visible beneath
but a dim chaos of clouds, nothing on the horizon
either, except, far away to the north, the giant


110
COTOPAXI.
cone of Cotopaxi. Its snow-girt crater was lit
up every now and then by the gleams of the
great fires within-gleams that darted in straight
lines up through the rolling clouds of smoke that
hung pall-like over it.
This is the loftiest and mightiest volcano in
the world. Talk not of its height in feet or
yards-speak of it in miles; and fancy, if you can,
a burning mountain nearly five miles in height,
the thunders of whose workings can be heard,
and have been heard, six hundred miles away!
It made Tom shiver to think of it. But O, the
illimitable distance of the stars that shone above,
and to think of God who made them all!
a mystery of mysteries! And the stars are voice-
less, and these dread volcanoes speak only to us
in thunders that we cannot understand, till we
are fain to seek for refuge in the only refuge we
have: our belief in the goodness of the Father,
and the religion revealed to us in the Book of
Books.
What
Tom sighed, he knew not why, and crept inside
to the shelter of the cave, and wrapping himself
in his blanket soon sank to sleep.
But many
times ere morning he was startled by the roar of
falling débris of earth, rocks, and stone, loosened
by the recent rain storm.
Samaro roused his young master early to
see the sunrise. But when he went outside he
stood for a few moments in silent wonder. Where


IN THE CLOUDS.
111
had the world all gone to? It had disappeared,
most assuredly-most of it at all events. Here
was the mountain above and round him, but all
the gorgeous scenery he had gazed on last night
was swallowed up in an ocean of white mist or
clouds. The word "ocean" is precisely the one to
use. Beneath and as far as the eye could gaze all
was a vast white sea, only it was bounded on the
horizon by the jagged ridges and crater-cones of
the mountains, and these looked like rocks and
cliffs overhanging this ocean.
It was a marvellous sight; but when presently
the red sun showed over the edge the scene was
changed, and the whole sea of mist turned to
clouds of mingled gold and crimson.
CHAPTER X.
"IN THE FORESTS STRANGE SHRIEKS AND SOUNDS
WERE HEARD."
I was venture which every true-born healthy
T was only that daring and indomitable spirit
Briton possesses that compelled Tom to climb
any further into cloud-land to-day.
Tootu and his companions were left behind at
the cave, our hero going up alone with Samaro.
He meant to reach the snow-line, and he did;


112
NOT A MOMENT TO LOSE.
and had the satisfaction of walking a mile or two
over a region of glaciers. unsurpassed anywhere
else in the world.
Apart from the pleasure he felt in having
gained his desires, and standing where no human
foot had probably ever trodden before, there was
little comfort at this sublime altitude. A high
cutting wind was blowing, and the cold was in-
tense and piercing. Poor Samaro looked blue
and benumbed; and albeit he had donned those
wonderful nether garments of his, he was a very
pitiable spectacle indeed.
At last he stopped, and pointing to a cloud that
seemed fast approaching-
"Has my young chief," he said, "made his will?
If we have to die, Samaro would prefer to be
where the birds sing."
So enchanted had Tom been with the desola-
lation and sublimity of the scene everywhere
beneath, above, and around him, that he took no
heed of anything else, and had hardly felt the
cold.
But his eyes now followed the direction of
Samaro's finger, and to his surprise and alarm
he noticed that the last shoulder of the mighty
mountain was already hidden with a darkling
cloud. It was as if this monarch of the Andes
were himself feeling the effects of the bitter wind
and drawing his mantle close around him.
"Come, sir, come; there is not a moment to lose."
►


THE BLIZZARD.
113
Tom looked now towards the point from which
they had entered the plateau; it appeared very
far away indeed.
(6
"We can run," he said.
"Nay, nay," was the reply. "We will be ex-
hausted soon enough. As well lie down and die
as run."
The guide going on in front at a moderately
quick pace, with Tom in the rear, they now began
to retrace their steps.
But soon the snow began to drive athwart the
track in a blinding shower, the wind and cold
also increased till the former gained all the awful
strength of a blizzard. In less than five minutes
their footprints in the soft snow were entirely
obliterated. But Samaro held on unheeding, and
now and then some hummock of ice dimly seen
through the snow-cloud proved to Tom that they
were still in the right track.
There was no talking now. Indeed had they
shrieked even, their voices would hardly have
been heard in the howling of that awful storm.
How long they had walked Tom never knew:
it seemed hours and hours; but he was drowsy,
stupid, and all but benum bed. He was aroused at
length from his lethargy by the Indian violently
shaking him, for he had almost sunk down with
the terrible fatigue. Samaro, standing there by
his side all clad in ice and snow, looked like the
very spirit of the storm.
(568)
H


114
STEERING BY THE WIND.
Tom pulled himself together once more and
followed his guide.
At last, at long, long last they were descending.
Tom could breathe more freely now at every
step. The terrible tightness across his chest had
gone, and the fearful feeling of suffocation that
had half-garrotted him.
Then the snow changed gradually to sleet, the
sleet to rain, and the rain to mountain-mist. In
half an hour the sun was shining brightly, though
all around the terrible mountain-top the clouds
still curled and mixed.
They were saved! Saved but by the merest
chance; for Samoro now told Tom that had the
wind changed by so much as two points of the
compass, as it often does during these blizzards,
they must both have sunk and perished.
"You were steering by the wind, then?" said
Tom.
((
Entirely by the wind, señor."
In another week's time a change was made in
the method of travelling, for the party were now
entering a region so terribly wild and trackless
that horses would no longer be of any service to
them. So well and faithfully, however, had these
honest nags served them, that Tom determined
not to part entirely with them; and as Samaro
thought it would be possible to trust to the
honesty of some of the people of the last village


BLACK TOM AND HIS FRIENDS.
115
through which they passed before entering the
wilderness proper, they were left there, and
might or might not be awaiting them on the re-
turn journey, if ever such a journey should be
permitted them.
Ten additional carriers had now to be hired,
and, to his credit be it said, Samaro made the
very best bargains possible for his young master.
Altogether, the crew all told, as we say at sea,
of the little expedition now consisted of seventeen
souls, not including the three dogs and Black
Tom himself, who possibly had souls as well as
the rest. Here what the poet Tupper says on
this subject:-
66
"It is not unwisdom to hold with the savage
That brutes (as we name them for dumbness) have souls,
For though, as with us, death's fury may ravage
Their bodies--their spirits it never controls.
Dumb innocents, often too cruelly treated,
May well for their patience find future reward,
And the Great Judge in mercy and majesty seated
Claims all His creation as bought by its Lord."
Black Tom and the dogs, it may be added,
were very friendly; though at the same time puss
gave the dogs to understand that he was king
of the castle, being his master's chief pet and
favourite, and sleeping in his arms every night.
One evening puss brought home a fine speci-
men of cavy which he had caught in the forest.
He laid it dead at his master's feet; and receiving


116
A GYPSY LIFE.
the praise that was his due, went immediately
forth and brought in another. His master offered
those to Tootu; but Tootu said, "No sah, I not
eat de food wot de debil catch."
So the cavies were cooked for Tom himself,
and his guide shared them, washing the excellent
food down with a cup of yerba-maté, which
Samaro assured his white chief came all the way
from Patagonia. A most delightful beverage it
made; and it turned out that the guide had quite
a store of it. After drinking it a gentle feeling
of comfort seems instilled through every vein
and nerve in the body, far more pleasant than
that produced by tea, but by no means approach-
ing the stimulating effects of wine or beer.
Still acting on the advice of his clever guide
and companion, Tom continued to figure as an
eccentric Englishman, and made no hurry across
country into the land of the Indians proper. They
had seen but few of these even yet, so the pack-
ages of gifts had not been broached.
The life now led was quite of a gypsy character.
Whenever Tom found a more comfortable bivouac
than usual, "Here shall we stay for a day or two,
Samaro," he would say, and probably this day
would be extended to a week or even more.
Tom fished as well as hunted.
In many of the lesser streams the fish were
truly marvellously tame. Here hardly any science
at all was required to catch them. A hook "busked"


BLACK TOM'S DIVERSIONS.
117
with a little white hair or cotton at the end of a
strong line, and a short stout rod, was all that
was required. Patience is one of the angler's
virtues in this country, but in the wilds out there
it was not needed; for at times one might work
two rods, leaving one line in the water while
taking the fish from the other, and even thus he
would have plenty of work to do.
Strange to say the cat always accompanied his
master on a fishing expedition; but very seldom,
indeed, when he went shooting. Cats, we all
know, are fond of fish; but there are exceptions,
and this particular puss could never be prevailed
upon to eat fish raw or cooked. Nevertheless he
would play with those his master threw out on
the bank, and thus had no end of fun.
Black Tom came to the tent one evening with
a huge snake in his mouth. He no doubt ex-
pected praise for this exploit also; but on being
admonished about the matter he evidently made
a resolve not to repeat the offence, at all events
he never did.
One evening, on returning after dark, Tom
found Samaro with the cat on his knee, and
nearly all the men standing silently round him.
He jumped up laughing as his master approached,
and puss sprang on Tom's shoulder with his usual
fond cry of welcome.
"What were you doing with pussy?" asked
Tom that same night.


118
66
THE PRIVATE DEBIL.
Hush, chief!" said Samaro. "I was keeping
up their creed-the servants' creed."
66
And that is-
""
"That the cat is a debil. I was stroking his
back, and the 'lectricity was crackling, and the
sparks flying plentifully when you, señor, came
up. They think the chief is a great man to have
a private debil.”
Tom laughed, and the subject dropped.
In the forests of Ecuador, by day as well as
by night, there are all kinds of strange shrieks
and sounds to be heard; but returning about sun-
set one evening towards his little camp, and just
before leaving the woods, Tom heard a plaintive
scream that caused him at once to pause and
listen. Again and again it was repeated, and
he hastened in the direction from which it
came.
None too soon, for there on the top of a large
spreading tree was his favourite and pet, and not
five yards away a gigantic puma preparing to
spring.
Up came the rifle. He hardly took aim, but
nevertheless one minute afterwards the puma
was stretched lifeless on the ground, and the cat
was singing a song of victory on his master's
shoulder.
About a week after this, our hero had a very
narrow escape from death by drowning. His
company were on the march, when they came to


IN THE RAPIDS.
119
an extremely rapid river that had to be crossed
acrobatically. It was well for Tom that he was
a sailor, for the rope bridge is very common in
these wilds. This one looked rather insecure, for
it stretched with each man till his feet were
almost touching the torrent beneath. Package
after package had been swung over in the loop
attached to the rope, and man after man, in some-
what the same way adopted in saving life by a
line from a wrecked ship to the shore. The dogs
had been taken over, and then it came to Tom's
own turn the cat, as usual on such occasions,
clinging to his shoulder. When about half-way
across there was an ominous crack; but still the
rope held, and it was not until he was nearly at
bank that it gave way suddenly and entirely, and
the white chief was plunged into the boiling
whirling rapids.
He struck out bravely though blindly. He
could see nothing and hear nothing save the roar-
ing of the water in his ears. How long he strug-
gled he could not have told. It seemed like an
age. He was giving up at last, when all at once
the surging sound of the rapids ceased, and he
found himself near the bank and in calm water.
He caught at a tree-trunk that was floating
slowly down stream, and held on till rescued by
the Indians.
But where was Black Tom? Gone undoubtedly.
They did not travel much farther that day


120
MOURNING A FRIEND.
before the white chief called a halt, although it
still wanted three hours to sunset.
The tent was erected, and the men soon built
themselves shelters of palm and plantain leaves.
The camp fires were lit, and dinner cooked and
eaten. Then the men settled down for their long
forenight's chat and smoke, and as usual Samaro
threw himself down beside his chief.
But his chief was very sad to-night.
He cared not for the guide's stories or conver-
sation, nor would he partake of the fragrant
yerba-maté
All was silence and gloom for a time, but as it
grew darker the forest seemed to suddenly awake
to life-though a weird wild life it was. The
low grumbling growl of the prowling jaguar, the
strange medley of notes produced by flying or
crawling insects, the plaintive wailings of the
night-birds, and now and then these howlings and
shriekings from the darkest depths of the woods
that make one's spine feel like ice to listen to,
and cause the superstitious Indians themselves
to place their fingers in their ears and cease for
a time to talk.
'The señor is very sad to-night," said Samaro.
"Very sad, my friend. Very sad."
"And I too mourn the
friend."
"C
loss of your poor dark
He has been with me so long, Samaro."
"And he has come through so much, señor.”


"C
BLACK TOM TURNS UP AGAIN.
121
And was always so loving and faithful,
Samaro."
What Samaro was going to reply will never
be known, for at that moment a wild and fright-
ened yell burst from the lungs of the Indian ser-
vants. Something black had leapt over their
heads.
Tom made a spring for his rifle, which lay
loaded near him, thinking a jaguar had attacked
the camp. But the mystery was speedily solved;
for here was Black Tom himself, none the worse
for his adventure, as dry as if he had never been
half drowned, and in his mouth a plump little
cavy. Tom could talk after that.
Samaro brewed an additional bowl of maté,
and it was quite late that night before either
thought of retiring.
CHAPTER XI.
THE TREES WENT DOWN BEFORE IT LIKE HAY
BEFORE THE MOWER'S SCYTHE."
HE road next day led over a very lofty range
THE
of mountains. I say "road" for want of a
better word; for, in the direction they took at
the advice of Samaro, there was not even a path.
The forest that they had to penetrate, half the


122
A FINE PANORAMA.
distance towards the nearest ridge, was an almost
impassible jungle. They had to fight almost
every yard of the way against trees and creepers
and rocks. There were pumas in this forest;
they sighted and startled jaguars even, and
snakes seemed to be everywhere, but they
thought of nothing but how best to get on-
wards.
When they reached the mountain top at last,
and lay down to rest-fully five thousand feet
above the sea-level-every man in the company
felt as tired as if a long day's work had been
done.
A cool breeze was blowing at this great alti-
tude however, and having partaken of a moder-
ate luncheon, everybody felt once more as active
as Black Tom himself.
The view spread out before them here was
wide, wonderful, and magnificent in the extreme.
Probably in no country in the world is the scenery
more grand and thrilling than in this land of
Ecuador. Tom felt the influence of the situation
in all its force, as he reclined on a moss-covered
bank and gazed enraptured on the panorama
that was spread out far below him-the wide and
beautiful valley, the winding silvery river with
its whirling rapids and waterfalls that sparkled
in the sun, hills wooded to the top and forests
everywhere, the distant sierras on the horizon,
and the sky itself bluer in its rifts to-day than


THINKING OF HOME.
123
ever he had seen it, because there were ominous-
looking rain clouds about.
"I think," he said to himself, "I could be per-
fectly happy here if I had anyone to share my
pleasure with me. Heigho!" he sighed. "Even
the life of a hermit hunter has its drawbacks."
Then his heart gave a big throb of joy-ex-
pectant, as he thought of the probability of soon
having as a companion poor lost Bernard, "Theena's
brother. 'Theena! Yes, dear little 'Theena. He
wondered what she was doing just then. But she
would not be so little now. "Theena at thirteen
would look and act differently from the "Theena
of nine years old, that had to be forced weeping
from his arms when he left his native shore, long,
long ago. Ay, indeed it seemed very long ago;
for his young life had been so crowded with
strange incidents and events, that the past ap-
peared like an age.
And his uncle and dear mother, what would
they be doing just then? Sitting by the fire
perhaps, and talking of him; for though it was
early forenoon here, it would be evening in Scot-
land. He began to reckon the time in his own
mind. He was right, it would be about nine
o'clock. His father would be in the corner with
that studious face, and that everlasting long pipe
of his; his mother and Alicia would be quietly
knitting; uncle would be reading his paper with
'Theena by his side; and the great logs and the


124
THE INSPIRING DREAM.
coal and peats would be merrily blazing on the
hearth as they used to be in the dear old days
when Jack and Dick used to tease and chaff him,
and call him Cinderella. Then he remembered
his dream.
"O," he said, half aloud, "that dream will
assuredly come true. I shall find and free poor
Bernard if he be in the land of Ecuador."
The very words suggested action, and he sprang
to his feet. In five minutes more the expedition
was once again on the move,
Were I to relate all Tom's adventures during
his memorable march into the land of the Ecuador
Indians, what a very large book I could make!
And what a very large price my readers would
have to pay for it! It may not be; I must hurry
on with my narrative, my main object being to
give but the principle lines in the picture of the
life a wanderer must lead in this wild country.
One way or another Tom and his party spent
nearly five months on the journey. It was a
long time, but it passed away most pleasantly
and quickly; and Tom could say what few
travellers in Ecuador ever could-that he had the
utmost faith in his servants, from Samaro, his
major-domo, down to Rooph, the Indian boy, who
did little else except shoot strange birds with his
blow-gun, and whom no threats or punishment
either could induce to carry a package of any
sort. Tom's servants all liked him too, and he


IN THE STILL NIGHT.
125
felt confident they would fight for him if ever
there should be any necessity. Well, the life
these Indians now led under their white chief
was a very enjoyable one, and as they were
engaged to bring Tom back to Riobamba, they
would each have a modest sum at their banker's
when they got there—if ever they did.
There were times when it really did not seem
at all likely any one of the party should ever
come up out of the wilderness again.
Once, for example, they were encamped by the
banks of a beautiful river and close to the edge of
the forest. It was a charming situation, and they
had lain here for over a week. On this particular
night Tom thought as he took his last look at the
sky he had never noticed the stars shining more
brightly nor looking more near. There were the
usual sounds in the forest and all about, but other-
wise the deep solitude was unbroken; for not a
breath of wind was there to move the long grass
that grew near the tent. It was unusually sultry
and hot too. But for the creepies Tom would
have laid himself down as the men were lying,
on a bed of palm leaves, and slept sound till
morning. He envied the poor fellows their sweet
repose. The creepies did not appear to trouble
them. Musquitoes might sing and buzz about
their heads, drink their blood and go, but the
men slept on. Centipeds-and in the forest the
green-backed ones are quite as dangerous as


126
STRIKING CAMP.
snakes-might crawl over their hands, and cock-
roaches in scores pass over their faces, but they
would not heed even if they felt them. Serpents
even might take a short cut over their bodies
without awaking them, while the mournful cries
of the night-birds in the adjoining forest but
lulled them to dreamless slumber. It was very
different with Tom though; he dared no more
sleep in the open than in a tiger's den.
"Señor, señor, awake!" It was Samaro's voice,
and he was swinging Tom's hammock to arouse
him.
"What is it, Samaro?" cried Tom, raising him-
self on his elbow.
"We must strike camp at once, señor, or we
will be swept away by the flood. Listen!"
There was little need to listen. That peal of
thunder would have awakened Rip Van Winkle
himself.
"Are the men astir?"
"Si, señor. Hurry, señor. Hurry, there is not a
moment to lose!"
Tom was on his feet in an instant, and the men
were soon busily engaged making up the tent
He was a good general, and never during all his
long sojourn in the wilds did he retire for the
night until he had seen everything ready for a
start. There was never any telling what might
occur. A sudden attack by hostile Indians, a
flood, or a fire in the forest might necessitate


THE STORM COMES ON.
127
instant movement, and if they were not ready
for such a contingency, all would be loss and
confusion.
"Now, Samaro, whither away? Shall we cross
back into the plains, for we cannot get over the
river?"
"We must get to yonder hill," was the reply.
"Come."
The sky was black during the brief intervals in
which the lightning did not play. But this was
incessant, so that everything around was almost
as bright as day, though the light was strangely
confusing.
They had to go through the forest. This was
the most dangerous part of the journey; for here
the flashes played around every tree, while every
now and then some branch or even tree-trunk
would fall crashing across the track.
Luckily for our adventurers, it was along a
path made by tapirs that the route lay, so it was
broad and well beaten. These strange animals
are about four feet high and fully six feet long,
and are exceedingly numerous in the wilderness
of the Andes, especially in the vicinity of a not
too rapid river.
The rain now began to patter around them, the
lightning became even more vivid, and the terrible
thunder-cannonade was increased tenfold. The
wind also began to rise; it came down with the
storm from the north and west. It was this


128
THE JAGUAR.
direction of the clouds that had caused the ever-
watchful Samaro to expect a flood. Had the
depression come up stream the danger would not
have been so urgent.
They had still half a mile to go, as the crow
flies; and as the pathway, like that of all wild
beasts, was very winding, it would be at least
half an hour before they could hope to reach a
position of safety.
Samaro was here, there, and everywhere, hurry-
ing and encouraging all hands, using a bamboo
cane even to stimulate the flagging calves of a
few of the men. Suddenly there was a wild and
frightened yell from someone in front, a yell that
was heard high over the hurtling of the thunder.
"Eemateena! Eemateena!" was the shout
from the others. "The jaguar! the jaguar!" and
for a few moments every man seemed panic-
stricken. They even dropped their burdens, and
hardly knowing what they were about would
have hurried wildly back towards the river, had
not Samaro and Tom, revolvers in hand, barred
their progress. The terrible confusion that had
ensued was fatal to the poor fellow, who had been
attacked by the dreaded king of the wilderness.
He might have been saved had Tom got to the
front in time.
As it was, the beast dragged him at once into
the depths of the forest. A few more piercing
shrieks were heard, then it was evident that all


was over.
A WALL OF WATER.
129
The jaguar, or tiger as he is generally
called, must have been coming towards the river,
and thus met the unhappy man in his path; for
during a storm these animals will hardly ever go
out of their way to attack either man or beast.
The storm ceased almost as suddenly as it had
commenced, though the rain now came down in
rushing torrents, and just an occasional flash of
lightning shot athwart the inky gloom and served
to reveal the pathway.
As soon as they reached the high ground or
knoll they were safe. Here were a hundred
pathways instead of one, and all led upwards.
The top of the little hill was beaten hard with the
feet of the tapirs, and probably peccaries, who
for reasons best known to themselves must have
assembled here at times. It was only a wonder
none of these creatures were found here now; but
their strange instincts had doubtless warned them
to seek for higher grounds before the floods came
down. It rained heavily for hours, then morning
broke gray and uncertain over the hills, and about
the same time down came the river "bore."
Tom had never witnessed anything in life so
appalling, and even Samaro himself confessed
that such a quick and rapid "spate" was unusual.
The roar of this immense wall of water could be
heard for long minutes before it dashed round
the bend of the stream, and came tumbling on-
wards, carrying with it huge masses of rock and
(568)
I


130
THE RISING OF THE RIVER.
even soil that looked like islands in the midst of
the murky flood. The bore must have been fully
twenty feet in height, and the forest trees went
down before it like hay before the mower's scythe.
The noise at first was deafening; but it gradually
subsided, and before ten o'clock had entirely ceased.
But at this time the whole valley looked like an
immense inland sea or lake studded with little
islands. One of these islands was the hill on
which Tom and his men stood, and on which
they were for a time as completely imprisoned
and isolated as if the ground had been a rock in
mid-ocean.
There were three days rain, and all this time
the river, instead of going down, seemed gradually
rising.
It rose, and rose, and rose, as slowly but as
surely as fate itself, till the island was limited to
little over the site of the tent.
Then the rain ceased for a time. But the
clouds were very dark away towards the north,
from which direction low muttering thunder was
occasionally heard.
Was another storm brewing? If another bore
came down the stream, though not even half as
big as the last, the fate of the little expedition
would be sealed, and its doom be swift indeed.
All day long they watched the rising clouds.
When the sun set at last, forked lightning darted
here and there across the dark sky, with now and


THE WELCOME MOON.
131
then streams of fire rushing downwards from
zenith to nadir. These last were followed by
tremendous peals of thunder, but still the rain
kept off. No one thought of lying down to rest,
and for hours and hours no one spoke.
All eyes were turned towards the north. They
were like men waiting for death.
The clouds mounted higher and higher; they
saw star after star and constellation after constel-
lation blotted out, or swallowed up as it were in
the gloom. Still they sat and silently watched.
The suspense was terrible; every flash was
now like a message from an unseen world, every
peal sounded like a knell of doom.
Tom was praying. He was trying hard, too, to
yield himself to the will of heaven; but it seemed
sad to die so young.
Probably he had fallen into a kind of uneasy
doze at last, for suddenly he felt Samaro clutch
at his arm.
"It is coming! It is coming!" he cried.
"The flood, Samaro? Is it coming at last?"
"No, no, señor. I would not wake you for that.
Better you should die asleep. But look yonder!
Look eastwards!"
Tom did as he was told, and saw in the sky a
long line of glittering silver.
The moon was rising!
Up, up, up she sailed, the clouds changing
from black to gauze and gold before her, and by


132
RELEASED FROM PERIL.
and by she found a little rift of blue to shine in,
and her radiance was reflected from the river
beneath as if showers of diamonds were falling on
it from the sky.
By next morning the flood had gone down
considerably, but days must elapse before they
could once more resume their journey.
What struck Tom now as remarkable was the
deep impressive silence by night. Except in the
river there was no life about-no beasts or birds
of the forest, not even insect life itself. Never a
whisper, never a hum, except the little sad lilt
the river sang as it went rippling past the island
shore.
CHAPTER XII.
"A SHOWER OF POISONED DARTS FELL PATTERING
ON THE STOCKADE."
NE day about three weeks after the adventure
ONE
in the floods, as the party were filing over
the ridge of a hill, Samaro pointed away towards
the horizon with his outstretched arm.
There was a joyful smile on his face.
"At last, señor," he said, "we come to human
beings."
True; there was a village down there, for blue
smoke was curling up over the green of the palm-
trees.


INDIAN'S AGAIN.
133
Tom was rejoiced. What if Bernard himself
were in that village! Perhaps he would be one
of the first to come to meet them. And what a
strange story it would be his to tell!
Tom could not think of his captain's son as a
slave. No white man ever remained long in a
position of actual slavery among Indians; and
Bernard, if indeed he were alive, would doubt-
less be some great chief or warrior.
They were nearing the land of the Jivaro
Indians.
Two hours more of a toilsome march across
ground which was partly marsh and partly
fallen forest brought them to hard open ground.
They could hear the beating of drums and shout-
ing of the natives, and presently a dusky crowd
swarmed out to meet them.
A halt was immediately ordered, for even among
Indians etiquette must be obeyed.
Samaro advanced alone with Tom; who, by the
way, much to the terror of some of the juvenile
portion of this wild community, had his feline
pet perched upon his shoulder.
But their reception on the whole was a hearty
one. The general notion that appeared to prevail
among these Indian villagers was that Tom and
all his party were starving, for they brought
them food of all kinds; and to refuse to taste at
least would have been a grave offence.
That evening a grand festival was held at one


134
THE JIVARO VILLAGE.
of the chiefs' houses. Tom was not quite sure,
indeed, if the man was a chief, or held some
office akin to that of our mayors in this country.
Every one in the village or town was armed in
some form or another. Even the boys moved
about with their blow-guns; while spears and
shields formed the defensive weapons of their
elders. Many of the latter had the awful-looking
scalp hanging at their waists, just as Samaro
wore his. This evidently entitled them to be
looked upon as braves; for these scalps had all
been taken in battle.
Tom spent a few days in this village, distributed
a few presents, and went on again, having left
nothing but good-will behind him, and being
therefore assured of a welcome if ever he re-
turned this way.
On the evening of the day of their departure
from this village of Jivaros, and while resting by
the camp fire in the solitude of the forest, Tom
questioned Samaro about the probability of their
finding Bernard among these tribes.
Samaro's first reply was a negative and solemn
shake of the head.
Then he became a little more explicit. He
had feared he said to put questions too directly,
but at a feast one evening he had led round
deftly to the subject by asking an old warrior
whether Tom was not the second Englishman
ever he had seen; Tom's Uncle Robert, who had


THE CHILD BERNARD.
135
been here, being reckoned the first. "Yes," the
brave had replied, "with the exception of a
child."
This child, he had told Samaro later on, had
been the cause of a great quarrel; for the Jivaros
on the other bank of the river had borne him off.
The Canelo Indians had joined against these.
But, meanwhile, the boy had been sold to a tribe
who had taken him northward and east, perhaps
to Napo or Zaparo-land, and he might be killed.
The old warrior knew no more, or would tell no
more.
This was far from encouraging intelligence to
Tom, but he determined at all hazards to pursue
his wanderings and his investigations until at
all events he should discover the fate of Bernard
Herbert.
They visited many more villages and scattered
hamlets of the Jivaros. Each of these possess
what is called a war-drum, which if beaten at
one village is heard at another, and soon echoes
throughout the length and breadth of the tribal
land. This is a method of calling the warriors
together, and is as much resorted to as was the
fiery cross in the brave days of old in the Scot-
tish Highlands.
About a month after his visit to the Jivaro
Indians Tom found himself with his men de-
scending a ridge of hills towards a river, where


136
A VILLAGE OF THE DEAD.
Samaro expected to find a village. He had been
here before, and was somewhat surprised now to
find as they drew near no appearance of smoke,
nor any sound of life among the trees. True,
many if not most of the tribes in these regions
are nomads; but so well situated was this town,
on the banks of the Aguarico, not far from its
conjunction with the Napo, that something very
remarkable must have occurred to account for
its apparent desolation.
They were not left long in doubt; for Samaro,
who had entered the town some distance in front
of Tom, stopped short, then turning round
beckoned to his master to hurry.
Here on its back lay a corpse. The neck had
been fearfully gashed with a spear, and one hand
was almost severed through. The unfortunate
man must have been alive but a short time
before, for decomposition, so rapid in these hot
regions, had not yet set in.
They found the bodies of many more murdered
Indians; indeed, almost every house told its sad
story of massacre, not even the children nor old
women having been spared. The huts had been
all plundered, but otherwise left intact.
"Who has done these fearful deeds?" said Tom,
addressing Samaro.
"The Awheeshiries, without doubt," was the
reply.
Some broken blow-guns and spears lay about,
1
1
1


ON THE WAR PATH.
137
but otherwise there was scarcely any evidence of
a struggle. The attack must have been made at
the dead of night; and from the dreadful way
the victims had been cut and hacked about, the
probability is that revenge had instigated the
attack quite as much as the hopes of plunder.
Close to the village, at a bend of the river,
they came upon several boats drawn up on the
beach. They had evidently been used very
shortly before this, as evidenced by the number
of fresh banana skins lying here and there. The
hostile Indians must have come in these war-
canoes therefore; and it was certain they had
not gone. Indeed, from the care with which the
paddles were secured, and the boats themselves
shaded by bushes from the sun, it appeared cer-
tain they meant to return. Where were they
now? In all probability they had gone farther
inland, bent on plundering other peaceful vil-
lages; and Tom shuddered as he thought of the
awful deeds that might be enacted in that lovely,
still, forest land before the sun now declining
towards the west should again rise and shine
over the greenery of the woods.
What must now be done? was the next ques-
tion to be considered. Savages on the war-path,
their knives and hands still red with the fresh-
drawn blood of fellow-savages, are but little
likely to brook the presence of strangers in their
midst. Tom knew he could not expect to gain


138
CONSTRUCTING A FORT.
anything by fair means.
He must be on the de-
fensive; and there was no time to lose.
So he held a council of war.
Tom proposed instant embarkation in the
canoes, and a passage down the river. But
wiser and more wary Samaro vetoed such a plan.
They knew the dangers around them now, but
to drop down an unknown river at night would
almost certainly expose them to worse, not the
least of which might be perils from rapids and
cataracts.
But a sand bank or spit ran out into the river
some distance down, and this could easily be for-
tified, and held against a whole cloud of hostile
Indians. To decide was to act with Tom. The
packages and stores were therefore immediately
transferred to the boats, and landed on the spit;
and at the land-side thereof a long trench was
dug, where a kind of fort, formed of the bamboo
fences dragged from the village, had been formed.
Behind this they would be safe against even
poisoned darts, for luckily there was no cover for
the enemy anywhere very close at hand.
The sun was almost set, and Tom was having
one final run round the village, to find out if
there were not some poor wretch still alive that
he might render assistance to. He came upon a
footpath that led him for some distance directly
away from the river, through the bush, to the
very gates of an Indian compound of far greater


A STRANGE MEETING.
139
It must
pretensions than any he had yet seen.
be a kind of palace, Tom thought. As he lis-
tened before pushing open the door of the hut,
he heard the unmistakable moaning of someone
in pain. He hesitated no longer, and next
moment stood in the inner compartment. Here
on a kind of raised wicker couch lay the insen-
sible form of a woman, who, a glance told him,
was certainly no Indian belonging to this land
of Ecuador. Her face, though sadly racked by
anguish, was very fair and finely chiselled. Her
hair-long, dark, and straight, though now dis-
hevelled and her dress betokened her a kind
of princess of the tribe.
She raised herself on her elbow as Tom
entered, and looked at him for a moment wildly
and wistfully.
"O," she exclaimed, "an Englishman! You
are not my boy, Bernard?"
"No, no," cried Tom advancing excitedly. "I
am not Bernard. I have come to seek him. O,
it is awful to find you thus! You were the ayah
on board the Southern Hope. Speak! tell me
quickly where I can find Bernard."
""
Find? Find my boy? Yes, I will tell you."
A spasm of pain passed over her pale face, and
she fell back as if dead.
A calabash of water stood near, and Tom
moistened her lips and brow, and presently she
revived.


140
JUST IN TIME.
"You are wounded," Tom said. "I am selfish
to ask you to talk now. I will hurry away for
help; but first let me bind
your arm."
It had been frightfully gashed with a knife
while she was trying to ward off a blow aimed
at her heart.
Tom brought the edges together, and bound
the arm up with leaves and grass cloth. At that
moment Samaro himself entered.
"Quick, señor," he said, "the Awheeshiries are
returning. If they find us here we will have but
small mercy."
66
Help me then to bear this lady to our camp,
my good friend. Pray heaven she may live, for
she knows Bernard's story."
Between them they carried the ayah princess
out and away to the fortified sand-spit. And
none too soon. Hardly had they entered when
savages appeared from the bush, and a shower of
poison darts fell pattering upon the stockade.
As there was no reply from the fort they came
nearer and nearer, brandishing spears and caper-
ing and howling like very demons. The reply
they sought came at length, however. Tom's rifle
rang out sharp and clear in the evening air, and
the foremost foeman fell never to rise more.
Consternation seized the Indians, and they fled
indiscriminately towards the bush; but before
they could reach it Tom fired his revolver, and
some of them were wounded. It was from no


THE INDIANS FIRE THE FOREST.
141
spirit of cruelty he opened fire on a retreating
foe, but for the safety of his camp. He wished
to show these savages what kind of an enemy they
had to deal with, and the lesson was well merited.
It fell dark now; but presently the moon rose,
silvering the beautiful river and casting a glamour
over the now silent woods.
Yes, the woods were silent; for the savages
appeared to have fled. But about midnight there
were signs unmistakable that they were continu-
ing their unhallowed work in other places; for
every now and then, borne along on the light
breeze, came sounds that made Tom's heart thrill
with anger the exultant shouts of victorious
Indians mingling with mournful cries of agony
and fear.
Then a great red gleam appeared in the north,
and dense white clouds of smoke rolled skyward.
The savages had fired the forest.
Nearer and nearer came that red glare as the
night wore on, and soon they could hear the
crackling of the blazing wood; then the deserted
village took fire, and burned with terrible fierce-
ness for a time.
Constantly all night long after this, in the
fitful light of the conflagration, creatures could
be seen leaping madly into the river, and swim-
ming towards the other bank for safety. These
were the denizens of the woods and wilds; but
many must have perished in the merciless flames.


142
THE WOUNDED AYAH.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE DYING AYAH TELLS OF BERNARD.
AYLIGHT dawned at last, and heavy rain
began to fall, and soon even smoke itself
had ceased to rise from the blackened woods and
ruins of the village.
That the enemy still lay in ambush was
evident, for now and then dusky forms could be
seen moving about among the dark tree-trunks.
Towards noon they came near enough to shoot
darts at the fort from their blow-guns, and Tom
found it necessary to fire once more.
The wounded ayah had remained insensible all
night long, but at daybreak revived and beckoned
Tom to her side.
"I am going," she said. "I will be with my
dear mistress soon, and if Bernard is dead I will
be with him. I am glad."
"But you do not think Bernard is dead?"
“I fear—nay, I hope he is. He will be at
peace."
Tom spoke not. He feared to say anything
to confuse the dying woman. He tried even to
control his feelings as he listened to the ayah's
terrible story of her slavery, and that of the poor
boy, among the Indians. She spoke with diffi-
culty, pausing often, sometimes even fainting


THE AYAH'S TALE.
143
away entirely. But Tom's patience was rewarded
at last.
The mutineers of the good ship Southern Hope
had taken Bernard and the ayah into the interior,
as far as Riobamba, and there they were both
sold. The poor ayah would have been happy
even then had they both been bought by the same
master, or even by the same tribe. But this was
not so; for, while Bernard was first taken to the
Jivaro country, and sold thence to one of the
wildest tribes of the far interior, she had re-
mained all along with the Zaparo Indians. They
had not been altogether unkind to her, though
the lord and master who had claimed her made
her drudge and toil at household duties, like the
slaves that the wives of the Indians there ever
are. She had to prepare and cook his food with.
her own hands, see to his arms and clothing,
make and dye the very material of which his
garments were composed, and, while wandering
from place to place and sleeping in the woods,
she had even at night to lie down in the place
most open to the attacks of the jaguar or puma,
or more likely to be traversed by some deadly
snake. For all these toils and acts of kindness
her reward was nothing save the bite and the
blow. Finally she had fled, and after adventures
innumerable she had found her boy. Though it
was many years since he had seen her, and he
had grown up into a tall skin-clad young savage,


144
CONDEMNED TO TORTURE.
he knew his second mother, and gladly ran away
with her. Both had been captured by the
Zaparos, and brought to the very village from
which the ayah had fled. Here she was con-
demned to die, and her "injured" lord and
master was to be the executioner.
As she lay in her grass hut on the night before
her intended execution she heard some movement
near her, and next minute a tiny dagger was put
into her hands. Then she knew that her would-
be deliverer was Bernard. She could have cut
the cords that bound her now, and once more
sought safety in flight, but she would not leave
her boy. Dead or alive she would be with him.
The morning came, and she was led out to die.
The Indians were there in their thousands to see
the grand spectacle of a foreign woman being
massacred by their chief. She was led to the
stake; for death by torture was her intended
doom. Bernard was placed close to her that he
might witness her sufferings.
And now her master approached with stern,
set brow to begin the torture.
Suddenly with her own hand her cords were
severed, and with a yell like that of a panther
she sprang upon the chief, and cast him on the
ground stabbed to the heart.
For a moment the tribe was silent, paralysed
as it were, and the ayah herself broke the spell.
Advancing to where Bernard stood she cut the


THE WHITE CHIEF.
145
thongs that bound his hands, placed the spear of
the dead chief in his hand, and waving her hands
in the air above him:
66
""
Behold your chief!" she cried. The White
Chief of the Zaparo Indians, sent by the Great
Spirit to rule over them-and I am his mother!"
Then wild exclamations rent the air, as the
Indians crowded round their new king and threw
themselves on the ground before him.
All had been peace for years after this in the
camping ground of the Zaparos. They became
less nomadic in their tendencies, and built them-
selves better villages by the river. And whenever
they were insulted by other tribes Bernard led
them on the war-path; and they never failed to
gain the victory, and to return home rejoicing,
laden with spoil and many scalps.
The Zaparos are very warlike when roused;
but prefer hunting to fishing, and are the most
expert woodsmen probably in the world, and
this is saying a great deal. The spear and the
blow-gun are their weapons par excellence, and
they are experts with either.
He had
Bernard made a noble young chief.
all the wisdom of the white race, combined with
the cunning and training of the savages he had
dwelt so long amongst. He had no fear, either
when hunting or fighting. From hunting his
party would return laden with skins and meat.
He tackled single-handed either the jaguar or
(568)
K


146
THE CHIEF'S LAST EXPEDITION.
puma, and many a sturdy tapir fell beneath his
spear. From a raid on the foe Bernard's warriors
came back with joy and song, and for weeks
thereafter the sound of the war-drum was heard
in all the villages by the river's bank.
But Bernard was not wholly a savage; and it
had come to pass that he was seized with an
irresistible longing to see the ocean once more.
and find out if possible if his mother still lived,
So he chose from among his warriors fifty of the
bravest and most trustworthy, and bidding the
ayah adieu, amidst the tears of his people he
departed on his dangerous journey.
Then fell the curtain over his life-drama. The
dying ayah knew no more. He had never re-
turned; but rumours reached the tribe that their
white chief had been captured far beyond the
rocky Andes, and that all his followers were
killed by the hands of hostile Spaniards.
held Tom's hand as her
But she evidently was
The poor ayah! She
life was ebbing away.
not afraid to die. The religion that had been
instilled into her mind on board the Southern
Hope had been all through her weary life a
guiding star to her, and let us hope that when
daylight streamed through the fence, and fell on
her pale dead face, the soul had gone to a land
where there is no more sorrow.
They buried her there deep down in the sand;
and that same evening the boats were loaded up,


DOWN THE RIVER.
147
and in the hour of darkness, 'twixt sunset and
moonrise, they dropped silently down stream, and
succeeded in eluding their dangerous foes, who,
no doubt, lay in wait near the sand-spit ready to
renew their attack whenever opportunity of-
fered.
As soon as the moon began to glimmer over
the distant mountains they paddled towards the
shore, and hid under the thick foliage till morn-
ing. Then after a hurried breakfast, principally
of fruit, they once more embarked and went
gliding down the river.
It was no part of Tom's intention, however, to
keep to the stream. It would have led him on
to the great Marañon, or even into the wilds of
Brazil. So the very next morning, being now
safe from pursuit, they once more took to the
woods, and the long and toilsome march was
commenced towards the distant shores of the
Pacific, and Guayaquil.
All speed, however, was made on the backward
journey. There was no more dallying to collect
beautiful butterflies, or to seek for more skins of
bird or beast. If Tom could but succeed in
saving the splendid collection he had already
made he felt he should be more than happy.
The party still depended on their guns for their
living, however, and killed each day just suffi-
cient food to carry them on.
Their adventures were of the usual sort already


148
BETWIXT LIFE AND DEATH.
described, and many a hair-breadth escape both
Tom and his companions had by flood and field.
While nearing Guayaquil, however, the fatigues
of this terribly-forced march began to tell on
Tom's excellent constitution, and he fell sick.
A few days' rest becamé imperative now.
"Just a few days, Samaro," Tom said, "and I
shall be well, and able to go on again."
That night he was in a burning fever, and for
three long weeks he hovered betwixt life and death.
But his youth claimed victory at last; and
Samaro had been a most faithful nurse. It
would have been difficult to say which of the
two-Samaro or Black Tom-showed the greatest
exuberance of delight when the master became
quiet and sensible once more. About the first
food that Tom ate was a tenderly-cooked cavy
that this strange puss had caught and brought in.
Indeed, Samaro said that all through Tom's ter-
rible illness hardly a day passed that the cat did
not bring either a cavy or dead bird in, and he
invariably jumped into his master's hammock
with the offering, laid it by his cheek, and then
sat down to watch his face.
So now that Tom was apparently out of
danger, both Samaro and the faithful cat went
about singing-each in his own way-from
morning till night.
One day as Tom lay in his hammock, with the
end of the tent thrown up to let him breathe the


BARNABY BLUNT.
149
fresh, pure mountain air, and feast his eyes on
the wild and beautiful scenery all around the
camp, he heard strange voices, and in another
minute, lo! there stood before him a tall and
somewhat ungainly Quaker-looking Yankee.
That he was a Yankee Tom could tell at a
glance, and the first words he spoke confirmed it.
"My name's Barnaby Blunt," he said, throwing
his rifle on the grass; "and I'm mighty sorry to
see a young Britisher in such a plight as you are,
sirr. But precious glad I'll be if I can do you a
service."
Tom smiled feebly, and thanked him; but he
was far too languid to talk much.
That did not matter much, for this Yankee
could talk for two, or even for half a dozen at a
push. And he had not squatted beside Tom's
hammock much over ten minutes before his lis-
tener had his whole history, and that of his wife
and wife's family.
But Barnaby Blunt proved himself a true
friend indeed, and to his disinterested kindness
Tom no doubt owed his life.
"I'm only hunting about here," he told Tom,
"and it ain't a deal o' matter where I goes; but
out o' this camp I don't budge for a week, and
by that time I'll have you taut and trim enough
to come along. Trust Barnaby Blunt to do the
right thing for a stranger, and all the more if
that stranger be a Britisher."


150
THE YANKEE TURNS DOCTOR.
Tom smiled, and feebly thanked him.
My wife's a Britisher; but for all that ye
won't find a longer-headed old gal about any-
where's than 'Liza Ann. 'Liza Ann is my wife's
name, and 'Liza Ann is the name o' my ship;
and now you see what kind o' water you're in."
But," he added, after a brief pause, "I'm not
going to bother you now.
I'll come again. My
camp's only just over here."
Barnaby did come again—that very evening,
too. And he did not come empty-handed either.
Before he sat down on a package-which was
the only thing by way of a chair the tent con-
tained he began to empty his pockets, and Tom
could not help smiling at the magnitude and
diversity of their contents. Pots of jelly, parcels
of Iceland moss, boxes of marvellous tonic pills,
bags of arrow-root, and bottles of wine. He
handed the things one by one to Samaro, and
then he sat down.
"Now, young fellow," he said, "you haven't
got anything else in this world to do or to think
about but getting well. And as to that, why,
your worthy servant and myself will shore you
up in a brace of shakes. No, you mustn't talk.
You must listen, and I guess I'll amuse you.
See here, you've been in the wilds for about a
year, haven't you?"
Tom nodded.
"That's right," continued the Yankee. "Nod


AN INVITATION.
151
your head for 'Yes;' shut your eyes for 'No.'
Give yourself no earthly trouble about anything,
and we'll get on like a boundless prairie on fire.
You've been out o' the world, I've been in it, and
every night I'll tell you or read you some news.
Barnaby was as good as his word. He came
regularly every forenoon and every evening, and
read or talked to Tom; and no woman could
have been more kind or more considerate. It is
not wonderful then that, in less than a fortnight,
the patient was able to sit once more by the
camp fire, and could give information as well as
receive it. He told Barnaby all his adventures,
and those of his uncle and Bernard as well.
The Yankee marvelled very much at all he
heard.
""
'Of course you have a collection of curios,
haven't you?"
""
66
'Rather," said Tom proudly.
Then I guess we can deal."
"I guess we can't." And Tom laughed.
"Will you sell the cat? Why, there's a small
fortune in that animile."
But Tom refused to sell his favourite.
"And now," said the Yankee one evening, "I'm
going to sea for three months, and as you've
nothing particular to do, why, come along. It'll
set you up for life. What say?"
"I accept your hospitality," said Tom "and
thank you very much."


152
TOM PARTS WITH HIS SERVANTS.
"Don't you dare thank me. By thunder, sir,
if you thank me I'll throw you overboard. Bar-
naby Blunt wants no reward, not even a wordy
one. But you'll come?"
66
Like a shot."
Spoken like a man and a Britisher. Tip us
your flipper. Now, good-night; I'll go and get
ready for the march."
Good-night, and may God himself reward
you."
"Amen," said Barnaby, and next minute he
was out of sight.
A week after this Tom was back in Guayaquil,
and had bidden his faithful servants a long fare-
well.
The boy Rooph was disconsolate in the extreme,
and shed tears abundantly.
To comfort him in some measure Tom gave
him his photograph.
"Ah," said the lad, "you leave wid me, then,
your soul! O, I shall ever love it, and I shall
weep when I look at it when you are far from
poor Rooph!"
Samaro was affected also, though he shed no
tears.
"Perhaps," he said somewhat sadly, "we shall
meet again. I will live in hope, señor."


ON THE "LIZA ANN."
153
CHAPTER XIV.
FILLED WITH GOLD DOUBLOONS— SIRR, ARE YE
LISTENING?"
THE 'Liza Ann was about as strange-looking
Ta craft as ever Tom had clapped eyes upon.
THE
He was not well enough yet to be hypercritical';
but for all that he could not resist the temptation
of making his boatman pull right round and round
her at some distance away, so that he might see
her from every point of the compass.
She lay like a duck on the water, there was no
doubts about that; in fact she had about the same
comparative breadth of beam that a duck pos-
sesses, the same lowness of free-board, and the
same depth or rather absence of depth of hull.
Her masts, two in all, were set in with a pretty,
though rather old-fashioned rake. She was brig-
rigged, though, considering her length, she might
easily have been a barque. Her spars were not
of great height, and her yards were very long.
There was no mistake about it, she could take a
good spread of canvas. Well, she was painted
dark green all over; picked out as to ports with
a lighter green, and her bulwarks inside were
also light green.
Tom smiled to himself as he sized her up.
Barnaby Blunt saw that smile. He was probably
six hundred yards away at the time, and stand-


154
A FRIEND INDEED.
ing on the quarter-deck of his own ship; but he
had eyes like a hawk, and "barnacles," as he
called the lorgnettes that hung in a patent leather
case by his side, to aid those eyes.
"That Britisher is a-sizing of my ship up," he
said to Pebbles his mate. "Britishers don't know
everything. I'll talk to him."
The Yankee was politeness itself to his pas-
senger. He had a seat all ready for him on deck
under a snow-white awning, a delightfully easy
deck chair, in which one might sleep as comfort-
ably as in a hammock, or dream without sleeping.
The mate hastened to assist Tom on board, but
the captain was before him.
"With all due deference to you, Mr. Pebbles,"
he said, "I'm going to do everything for our
guest with my own hands. If my wife was on
board I'd turn him over to her. As she ain't, I
does the honours. Take my arm, young man.
You ain't so strong as you think. You're as
shaky as an old chimney-pot."
""
"Thank you," said Tom; "you really are good.'
"I'd do the same for a nigger, sirr, if he were
as shaky as you; and if my wife were on board,
she'd do more. Now, sit down there; I'm not
going to pester you with any extra attentions.
Whatever you needs you hollers for."
"I don't think," said Tom, "I'll have to holler
for anything. This chair is delightful, and the
awning is a happy thought."
i
1



56.8
66
HEAH I IS, SAH," SAID GINGER BRANDY.





GINGER BRANDY.
155
"We don't sail before to-morrow morning,
cause I've more stores to get off. And now, as
we don't dine for an hour yet, suppose we have
a drink. What shall it be-wine, old rye, a cup
o' coffee, or a cock-tail?"
"I'd prefer coffee, I think; but isn't it rather
hot?"
"O, bless your innocence, we'll have it iced!
Ginger Brandy, where are you?"
A bullet-headed nigger boy, dressed in white
calico, with face and calves as black as pitch,
rushed up.
"Heeh I is, sah," he said.
"Mr. Talisker, here's your slave. His name is
Ginger Brandy. If he irritates you, don't hit him
over the back with a capstan-bar, 'cause you'll
break the bar. Don't heave a cocoa-nut at his
head, 'cause you'll damage the cocoa-nut. Just
get up and toe his shins. Now, Ginger Brandy,
bring the ice, and the coffee, and the lemons, and
my pipe, and a bundle of smokes. Skedaddle!"
Ginger skedaddled quickly, brought out a little
table from the raised poop, spread a white cloth,
and in two minutes more had placed thereon two
cups of fragrant coffee, with lumps of clear ice
floating in each. And when Tom lit his cigar
after drinking half of the coffee, Ginger Brandy
took his stand beside his chair with a huge fan,
and our hero felt as happy and comfortable as
ever he had done in his life.


156
BARNABY'S LITTLE YACHT.
The Yankee's pipe stood on deck, an immense
hubble-bubble; the smoke, which passed through
iced-water, being conducted to his lips by means
of a tube that seemed yards in length. Sitting
there in his rocker, with his long legs dangling
over the bulwarks and his eyes half closed, Bar-
nably Blunt looked the quintessence of enjoy-
ment.
"And what d'ye think o' my little yacht, sirr,"
he drawled at last. “Mind ye, I twigged you
sizing her up. I see'd your smile; yes, sirr, I
think I heard it."
~66
"Well," said Tom, to tell you the truth, I
never saw so strange a craft before; and had I
met her at sea, I shouldn't have been able to say
what was her nationality."
"You do me honour. She's my own idee. I've
sailed in all kinds o' craft, and saved a little pile.
'Barn,' says my wife to me onct, 'why don't ye
build a boat o' your own, and deal in notions?'
Well, sirr, the same thing had been runnin' thro'
my head for months, and I set to work and
planned out the 'Liza Ann. She is the safest
brig that sails. She's maybe not the fastest.
Safety before speed, sirr. 'I don't mind waitin'
a month or six weeks,' says my wife to me; ‘I
don't mind that, Barn,' says she, but always
come home in your own ship, and not atop o' the
hencoop.'
"Yes, sirr, and the 'Liza Ann won't broach to


"" GIVE US YOUR HAND."
157
either, and she can't be taken aback, and the
sticks won't blow out o' her, and she'll float in
shoal water if a punt can, and if she does ship
green seas, sirr, why they slide off again like rain
off a garden roller. That's what my 'Liza Ann
is, sirr."
Tom laughed at the Yankee's enthusiasm.
"All my own idee-all my own and 'Liza's
remember."
"Well, it must be a pleasant life—going any-
where and seeing anything."
"You bet it is; making a few dollars too. There
is nothing I won't trade in. Now, those curios o'
yours-they did tempt me. I guess you'd better
sell. The white ants may eat them all if they
lie long at Guayaquil."
"I've provided against that. They're all pre-
served in tin cases; but as they are for my uncle,
I wouldn't sell them for the world."
"What! you're goin' to pawn them then?"
"No, no, no; I don't mean that uncle. I mean
my uncle Robert; who, like yourself, is a splendid
fellow and a thorough sailor. And I'm sure he'll
be delighted to make your acquaintance if ever
he has the good luck to meet you."
That little
Give us your hand, young man.
speech is good enough for the senate. I say,
what a pity you ain't a true-born American. I
guess you're a sailor yourself out and out."
Tom was indeed a sailor out and out. When


158
"" NOTHING TO DO BUT GET WELL."
he went on deck next day he found that the 'Liza
Ann, with all sail set and almost dead before the
wind, was ploughing and plunging southwards
through the Gulf of Guayaquil. The anchor had
been weighed, and a start made in the moonlight
long before the sun or Tom either had dreamt of
rising.
"Young man, come in to breakfast," said a
voice behind him. "Ye can't live without eating,
you know. Good-morning. I hope you slept—
and your cat? Droll idee a cat. Ha, ha! Well,
come and tuck in a bit. Why, you're looking
better already."
Talking thus, Captain Barnaby Blunt led the
way into the poop, which was flush with the
upper deck in the grand old fashion. He pointed
to two chairs.
""
There's a seat for you, sirr, and one for your
friend. Droll idee, truly. Ha, ha, ha! Looks as
wise as a Christian, and I daresay is better than
many. Now, sirr, you see what's on the table.
Eat, drink, and be merry; and during all this
voyage I'm your servant, Brandy's your slave,
and you've nothing to do but get well."
Before touching a knife or fork, however, this
strange Yankee lifted his right hand piously to
his ear to ask a blessing. It was quite the length
of a short prayer, but evidently came right away
from the speaker's heart.
Tom liked him better after this.


A TRUSTY SHIP.
159
'Now fall to, sir. Ginger Brandy, keep that
fan moving."
It was pretty evident that during this voyage
Barnaby Blunt was going to do most of the talk-
ing. Tom was rather pleased than otherwise that
it should be so. He was now in that delightful,
half-dreamy stage of convalescence that all must
have experienced who have ever been downright
ill, and in which existence itself seems a pleasure,
and everything one looks at is seen through rose-
coloured glasses.
But had Tom been even in robust health, a
voyage like that he was now embarked in would
have been pleasant in the extreme.
The ship was everything that could be desired ·
from bowsprit to binnacle. She had every good
quality except speed. But who could wish to
speed over an ocean like that which sparkled all
around them in the sun's rays; a sun, mind, that
did not feel a single degree too hot, albeit they
were almost on the equator. The wind too was
favourable, and kept so for over a week, and
when it did at last die almost down, no one on
board appeared to regret it; even the ship herself
seemed to think it was the most natural thing in
the world she should take it easy a bit.
There were plenty of books on board, plenty of
ice, Ginger Brandy with his fan, and Barnaby
Blunt with his ever cheery smile and his wealth
of droll conversation.


160
A SLEEPY LISTENER.
"Say, young man," said Barnaby to Tom one
day as both reclined in their chairs on deck,
'don't you wonder where you're goin' to?"
<<
"No," said Tom with half-shut eyes. "It never
occurred to me to ask. You said I was to come
with you, and I've come. By the way, where are
we going? To Tahiti, to Fife, New Zealand, or
where?"
Well, that cat and you are a
"Ha, ha, ha!
pair, I guess. Ha, ha, ha!
Ha, ha, ha!
would enjoy you.
How 'Liza, my wife,
But now, look here.
ing to tell you a story."
66
I'm all attention."
I'm go-
"Well, don't go to sleep. Once upon a time—”
"That's a nice beginning," said Tom.
"Once upon a time a ship filled with gold doub-
loons Sirr, are you listening?"
"Yes, gold doubloons-"
"Seems to me you nodded. But never mind.
She sailed away from Calla-O. It was all specie
and nothing else she had on board. There must
have been pretty near five million dollars. Are
you awake?"
"I'm listening. I like to keep my eyes shut
when anyone else is telling a good story. Go on.”
"Well, sirr, a certain bad lot who lived at Lima
got wind of it, and pursued this craft in a hired
cruiser, with a hired crew assassins-overtook
—
ugly affair spared none
Australia back
sharks
plank
island
-
mu-


"I MEAN TO FIND THAT PILE."
161
tiny - gold hidden - terrible sufferings - death
nobody found - Galapagos Islands -"
-
The above disjointed sentences are the skipper's
strange story as Tom heard it—not as the Yankee
told it; and at the word "islands" Tom dropped
to sleep altogether, and did not awake until Bar-
naby had finished.
"Very remarkable story indeed!" said Tom;
"very remarkable! And of course they hanged
him?"
""
Hanged whom-eh?"
"Why, didn't you say that somebody- Why,
I do believe I was half asleep."
"I guess you were, and so was the cat. But
there, it don't matter. I mean to find that pile.
If I don't somebody else will, and then Barnaby
Blunt won't have it-eh?"
""
Certainly not."
"And when Barnaby Blunt does find it and does
get it on board, then hurrah! for 'Frisco and my
old woman 'Liza, and no more going to sea for
me on this side the grave. Only, altho' I must
confess you ain't the most inquisitive coon ever
I came across, still I thought I'd tell you the
strange story, and let you know where I was
bearing up for, and the kind o' notion Barnaby
Blunt had in his long head."
"Well, I'm much obliged, Captain Blunt, for
your confidence in me; and all will, I hope, turn
out well and for the best."
(568)
L


162
THE LAZY "LIZA."
It may as well be confessed here at once that
Tom's notions even now as to where the ship was
going to were the most hazy imaginable.
All went well in the 'Liza Ann for two more
weeks.
The men called her the lazy 'Liza; but certainly
they appeared to enjoy the ship's laziness very
much. They were only ten all told, including
Ginger Brandy; but dolce far niente was their
motto, from Pebbles the mate all the way down.
The masts, as I have said, were not tall, and as
there was patent reefing tackle they never had
far aloft to go; so their work was very easy.
But
they kept the ship as clean as a new sovereign.
They sang all day long, and danced in the even-
ing-verily a happy-go-lucky crew.
Tom the cat was a favourite forward; indeed,
this strange puss, being thoroughly up to the ways
of ships and sailors, seemed happier now than
ever he had been in his life.
He used to sit in the weather-bow of a night
till a flying-fish came on board, then catch it and
come aft with it to his master, and go back and
wait for another. The men averred that these
fish flew at Tom's eyes, because they looked like
a couple of ship's lanterns in the dark. Perhaps
this was the true explanation. At all events, the
fish did fly on board, and were duly cooked for
breakfast every morning; and if there be any-
thing nicer for breakfast than a broiled flying-


A DELIGHTFUL VOYAGE.
163
fish, I have yet to learn something new about the
sea, and things in general.
Years and years after this, Tom—our hero, not
the cat-used to look back to the days he spent
on board of the lazy 'Liza as among the most de-
lightful-dreamily delightful—in all his experi-
ence of a seafarer's life.
Ah! but they came to an end in a sadly unex-
pected way.
CHAPTER XV.
NEXT INSTANT THE SHIP WAS STRUCK AND
STAVED."
F this breeze keeps," said Captain Barnaby
IF
Blunt "if this breeze keeps up, we should
sight Chatham to-morrow."
"Oh, indeed!" said Tom.
"Yes. We are here now, I reckon," continued
Blunt, sticking a pin in the chart that was spread
out on the cabin table.
Something called the worthy Yank on deck
just then, and Tom closed his book.
"I say, Brandy, little boy."
"I'se a-listenin', sah, propah."
"Do you know where the ship is going to, and
what she is going to do? Funny now, but I've


164
A NIGHT OF INKY DARKNESS.
never looked at the chart yet. I think I've eaten
the lotus leaf."
"'Spects you has, sah. I don't know nuffin
neider, sah. I'm jes' like yourse'f, sah."
"Well, I've been so happy and so-so-half
asleep all the time; but now I'll have a peep at
the chart. Here we are Guayaquil Gulf. Why,
what a zig-zag course the tub has taken. Oh!
here we are-Galapagos! Whatever are we going
to do here? Ah! well, time will tell, and it's no-
thing to me much.”
The day passed dreamily away, like all the
other days; and night fell, and with it the wind.
Before turning in Tom went on deck. Such a
night of inky darkness and mysterious silence he
could not remember ever experiencing. The
blackness brooded over the sea-it was almost
palpable, and the silence seemed to enter one's
very soul. Hardly a sound in board, no sound at
all out yonder in the beyond. The men's voices
forward round the bow when they did speak
sounded loud and strange. Tom even felt relieved
when a sail flapped or a bolt creaked to some
almost imperceptible roll of the ship. There was
never a star in the sky to-night, and a mist that
was not a mist appeared to completely envelop
the ship.
Pebbles came aft quietly to where he could
dimly see Tom's figure in a ray of light stream-
ing from the poop cabin.


THE APPARITION.
He took Tom's hand.
<<
'Come with me," he said, "and listen."
165
He led Tom forward through the darkness to
the bows.
"We've heard it again," said one of the men in
a half-suppressed whisper. "Listen! Away out
yonder. It is coming this way; but what is it?"
They leant over the bows, "peering," "keening"
into the mysterious darkness.
The sound was like some great living monster
steering through the water, breathing heavily
with every stroke-sighing I had almost said—
ceasing sometimes, to be heard closer to the ship
the next minute.
Pebbles still held Tom's hand, as if in his
anxiety he had forgotten to let it go; and Tom
could feel that hand tremble.
"Look! look! Oh-h!"
The "Oh-h!" was a simultaneous cry of fear
from the men. Tom felt like one in a dream.
For there in the sea, higher far than the bulwarks,
blacker even than the blackness of night, was a
shape!
Next instant the ship was struck and staved.
Every timber of her shook and shivered from stem
to stern, and some loose belaying-pins leapt clear
of their holes and fell rattling on deck.
All was shouting and confusion on board now.
The captain rushed out of his cabin, the mate ran
aft; but no one could tell what had happened.


166
tain.
"SHE'S GOING FAST."
She has run on a snag rock?" cried the cap-
""
"We cannot say, sir; but we saw
The carpenter, lantern in hand, appeared from
below.
"She is making water at a tremendous rate, sir.
Shouldn't think she'd float an hour."
Blunt went away with him to see for himself.
When he came up again he entered the cabin,
where Tom was standing by the table looking
white and scared; for he was yet little more than
an invalid.
"Well," said the captain, “this is about the sud-
dentest thing, I guess, I ever came across. It's
a sudden thing, sirr, and it's a very solemn thing
too. Mister Talisker, it's a good thing your
clothes is on."
'Has it come to that?" said Tom.
"Well, sirr, it hasn't come to the hen-coop quite;
but it's come to boats. Now, I always said the
'Liza Ann was the safest ship out; but I didn't
reckon on snags in deep water. Pebbles!"
"I'm here, sir."
""
'Well, tell the hands to lay aft here. I guess
we'll have time for prayers."
"C
She's going fast, sir."
"We'll have time for prayers, I tell you."
"Very good, sir."
Tom had never known so cool a sailor as this.
With the sound of the water rushing into the


TAKING TO THE BOATS.
167
sinking, reeling ship, he nevertheless found time
—nay, but made time, to kneel there and pray
long and fervently for protection to Him who
rules on sea as well as on earth, and whose hand
and eye are everywhere, in the blackness of night
as well as in the sunshine.
The men's response of "Amen" was deep and
solemn. Half a minute of dead silence, then all
rose from their knees.
"Now, Pebbles!" roared Captain Blunt, "bustle
about. Load up the dinghy and the jolly-boat.
Put in everything we're likely to want-arms,
ammunition, water, food. Mr. Talisker, you'll go
in the dinghy with Ginger Brandy and Smith."
"Ay, ay, sir."
"6
Well, see after your own affairs. Don't forget
lights, for keep together we must."
There were no signs of weakness about Tom
now. He appeared to have grown suddenly
strong and well.
- -a
lad
Smith was a sort of hobble-de-hoy sailor-
of seventeen, with plenty of strength, but not
much brains to command action. Ginger Brandy,
the other half of Tom's crew, was far more useful;
so he gave the nigger charge of the white man.
This was reversing the order of nature some might
think, but it worked very well indeed on the
present occasion.
Tom showed good generalship. He first had a
run below to see how fast the water was gaining.


168
FAREWELL TO THE SHIP.
It certainly was coming in at a very rapid rate.
But she would last an hour, Tom thought; so he
at once set to work to provision his boat.
The dinghy was not over twelve feet long, but
she was broad in beam and with a good free-
board. So Tom had her lowered, and swung a
lantern over the side where she was that its
light might shine right into her. Then under his
directions the lads began to load up.
"You'll have her too deep, I reckon," said Cap-
tain Blunt as he passed.
"Thank you," replied Tom, "but I do not think
so; for you see if it comes on to blow we can
lighten her by pitching the least necessary things
overboard."
The jolly-boat was ready first, and lay waiting
till Tom and his crew embarked. Both boats had
stepped their masts, ready for the least puff of
wind; and both had compasses and a ready-made
chart each.
""
Good-bye!" cried pious Blunt. Keep our
light in sight; keep yours hanging on your mast
as we have ours. Fire a rifle if ye want assist-
ance. May the Lord be with you! Now, men,
three farewell cheers for the dear old 'Liza Ann.”
What sorrowful cheers they were, and how
strangely they sounded in the pitchy darkness!
"Pull round the bows, lads, in close. I just
want to put my hand on her once more.
give way."
Now


IN THE BOATS.
169
These are the last words Tom heard the Yankee
skipper speak, and presently the jolly-boat was
swallowed up in the blackness. All except her
twinkling light-and by this the dinghy was
steered.
Everything went well till morning. Then with
the sun, that leapt up like a ball of fire and
changed the waters to a pool of crimson, came a
breeze of wind. Oars were taken in and a little
sail set. Tom hoped it would not increase, for he
desired to save all her stores if possible.
About noon that day the jolly-boat was distant
nearly a league, about two points on the weather-
bow. She was signalling to the dinghy, and pre-
sently she took in sail. Tom increased his, rightly
judging that Captain Blunt wished him to come
closer.
The dinghy leaned over now in a most uncom-
fortable way. Tom, still determined if possible to
save his precious cargo, made his men sit well to
the weather-side, and thus they managed to keep
her lee-gunwale out of the water as they tried to
get closer to the jolly-boat. The latter was seen
to lower sail altogether, and Tom could not make
out what the matter was. He understood soon,
however; for down the wind at that moment he
descried rolling along a dark wall of fog. In a
few minutes the jolly-boat was engulphed, and
soon after the dinghy.
All that day the fog lasted; but now and then


170
NO SAIL IN SIGHT.
Tom could hear the ring of a rifle, and steered by
that. Towards evening the wind had increased
in force, and he heard no more firing. The jolly-
boat would doubtless lie to, however, so Tom
thought; and by next day, when the fog cleared,
he should see the boat again. The fog did not clear
next day, however, nor for many days; and when
the sun shone at last there was no sail in sight!
There was no help for it; they must make the
nearest land, and doubtless the other boat would
do the same.
And now ensued a painful and weary time.
The wind had died down entirely. It seemed
as though it would never blow again. The sea all
round was like molten glass, a long rolling swell
coming in from the north-west-a swell that was
delusive in the extreme, causing them to believe
they were making progress to the south, although
the current was dead against them. The sun's
rays, beating straight down from the heavens
and reflected from the waters, were doubly fierce,
and there was no awning for protection.
Two days passed like this; then poor Smith
sickened and died. Tom had given him the last
drop of water that remained in the boat. So be-
tween them Ginger Brandy and he gently lifted
the body up and dropped it astern, and the scene
that followed was horrible to witness. Before
their eyes the corpse was torn in pieces by those
tigers of the sea-the hammer-headed sharks.
I


A DREADFUL FEAST.
171
There must have been at least a dozen at that
dreadful feast, yet next minute several were
floating alongside, and casting sidelong glances
up at the rowers with their hungry, eager, and
awful eyes.
On and on and on they rowed, resting often on
their oars and gazing round them in the vain
hope of descrying a sail.
A bird alighted in the water on the forenoon
of next day. A strange weird-looking gull, the
like of which Tom had never seen before. It was
so tame that Brandy easily knocked it dead with
his oar, and they sucked its blood and devoured
the flesh raw and warm. Horrid meal though
this appears to have been, it revived them better
than anything else save water could have done.
Of food there was abundance in the boat; it was
water alone they craved for. That same evening
it rained a little. They caught the water in their
jackets and eagerly drank it.
Another long dark black starless night; but in
the morning the clouds were dissolved, and the
sun shone more fiercely than ever.
No rain, no mist even.
They dipped biscuits in the sea and sucked
them, but the thirst grew more intense.
Tom suffered worst; his agony was fearful.
With eyes and brow that felt bursting with pain,
and swollen and parched tongue, he sat at the oar
and rowed feebly and mechanically.


172
A STRANGE EXPERIENCE.
Birds came now in larger numbers, but none
came near enough to be caught.
Surely they were nearing land! But nothing
was in sight from where they sat.
burning sky, only the heaving sea!
Only the
A bright-eyed butterfly flew on board one day,
and the negro boy shouted for joy. But Tom
heeded it not; he was past heeding anything.
Pain was gone though. He felt nothing. His very
mind seemed to have fled. He remembered look-
ing down at his own hands holding the oars, and
wondering to whom they belonged. The birds
screaming around the boat became spirits with
human voices and kept saying things to him,
and awful-looking black lizards swam in the
water near.
Then through the mist and haze that had
gathered before his eyes he could dimly see the
the negro lad approach nearer. The boy took
someone's oars gently out of his hand, and laid
someone down in the bottom of the boat. But
who was the someone, Tom wondered. It could
not be himself, for he felt nothing.
Then all was a blank.
When he opened his eyes again he was no longer
in the boat. The boy was pouring something down
his throat. It revived him, and he sat up.
He pointed to some immense lizards—the same
he had seen in the sea. They were lying together
on some igneous rocks in the sunlight, as large as
I


THE ENCHANTED ISLE.
173
young alligators but ten times more ugly-broad
in head with spreading legs, squalid, hideous,
fearsome.
Tom tried to speak as he pointed to them, but
could only utter a series of unintelligible vowel-
sounds with the back of his throat.
But poor little Brandy understood him.
"Yes, sah, dey are dere all right. You not
dream at all, sah. I see dem."
Then the boy took a stick and forced them off
the rock; though some of them turned round as if
to bite, and others caught the stick in their hands
in a way that curdles one's blood to think of.
Tom lay back now and slept again.
It must have been near morning when he
awoke, feeling almost well.
He was quite covered with a piece of sail, and
lay on a bed of soft dry sea-weed.
For a few moments he could remember nothing,
and sadly wondered where he was. But memory
soon returned. The stars were shining brightly
above. By its light he could see the foam of the
wavelets that sang dolefully on the beach. He
could see, too, the rocks and boulders near the
water. As he gazed on these, to his horror and
surprise some of them moved away inland slowly
with a harsh and rattling noise.
Surely I am on an island of enchantment,"
thought poor Tom, "or I cannot be awake!"
66
Ginger Brandy!" he cried as well as he could.


174
TO'TOISES.
"I'se heah, sah. Tank de Lawd, marster, you
hab got your voice once mo', sah!"
"Brandy, I saw the rocks move slowly away.
Was I dreaming?"
"No, sah. Nevah feah, sah. Dem not rocks;
dey are to'toises, as big as elerphants. I ride on
one to-day all 'long de beach. Dey are puffikly
ha'mless, sah. Don't you be 'larmed. I'se fit
'nuff to look arter you. Sleep, sah, sleep; de sun
rise soon."
As the boy spoke a gush of bird-melody came
from a neighbouring bush, so entrancingly sweet
but so wondrously strange, that Tom at once
placed his head again on his pillow of sea-weed
to listen.
Sleep the most refreshing ever he had enjoyed
in his life succeeded; but all through his slumbers
rang the bird-song, mingling with his dreams like
chimes from elfin-land.
CHAPTER XVI.
"A VAST GREEN AND FLOWERY VALLEY SUR-
ROUNDED BY ROMANTIC HILLS."
U bettah now, sah?"
You
"O yes, Brandy; I'll soon be all right.
But where are we?"


BRANDY HARNESSES A TORTOISE.
175
"I don't know nuffin''t all. On'y dis is an island
-I make shuah ob dat."
66
How long have I slept?"
"Two day, sah. I gib you plenty watah all de
time; and you suckee he down all same's modder's
milk, sah. You will lib now."
"And thanks to you.
with the boat?"
But who helped you up
"He, he, he! You not believe, plaps. But
Brandy neveh tell lie. I hab de paintah ob de
boat all ready, and presently one big elerphant-
to'toise come down. Plenty quick I hitch de
bight ober dat varmint's neck. Den I cried 'shoo!'
Den he pull and I push, and 'way we go cheerily.
But la! de elerphant-to'toise, he had strangle his
little self. And I make soup of some of him, fo’
true!"
Hardly believing what Brandy said Tom got
slowly up, and lo! there was the dead tortoise
right enough; and Tom had never seen such a
monster¹ before. Nor could he have seen one,
for the creature belongs only to the Galapagos
Islands.
"Why, Brandy," he said, "it is bigger than a
feather bed. I begin to believe, my boy, we have
landed on one of the enchanted islands I used to
read of long ago; and I can easily fancy a ship-
wrecked mariner making a boat of the shell of
1 Some of these wonderful tortoises are so large that half a dozen
men can hardly lift them from the ground.


176
A HUT IN A CRATER.
one of these beasts, and with a bamboo for a
mast and his jacket for a sail, crossing the ocean
to the mainland. And you strangled him?"
"No, he strangle his little self, sah. I help jes'
a leetle wid de axe. Den he bleed-O, he bleed
mo' dan one big bull, sah."
"And where is the blood, Brandy?"
"De fly eatee he all up plenty quick, and de ants
eatee all de fly leave. Den I dink all de rest
myself. But come, sah; de soup is all ready."
On board the 'Liza Ann Ginger Brandy had
gone about his duties in a very quiet way, indeed.
He had shown himself smart enough, but had
exhibited no extra talent of any kind. Now, lo
and behold! all his nature was changed. He was
in the wilds; he was part and parcel of the wilds,
and his capabilities of making the best of every-
thing appeared to know neither bounds nor limits.
During the time Tom had been lying insensible, he
had not only got the boat drawn up, but had built
a hut inside a broken-down rocky cone, which
looked like a small volcanic crater. It was cool
and clean. The roof was formed of the sail, and
inside was a soft bed of sea-weed.
The provi-
sions and ammunition were also carefully stored
here; and as there appeared to be no destroying
angels in the shape of ants about, everything was
safe enough.
The soup was splendid.
Tom felt a new man
as soon as he had eaten a shellful. They had no


BEING A CRUSOE.
177
basins, only shells. But several pannikins or
billies were among the precious stores; so there
seemed but little likelihood that they would have
to live on raw meat for many a day.
After dinner Tom noticed that Ginger Brandy
was carefully banking the fire with turf and
ashes.
"Why not let it out, Brandy? You can light
it again."
"No, sah; nebber no mo'."
"Why?"
"'Cause, sah, I let fall de
match. One box catchee fi'.
packet of lucifire
Den I jump on de
packet to stamp he out, and all de rest go puff.
You bery angry, sah?"
No, my friend; it can't be helped. Cheer up.
I say, Brandy?"
"Yes, sah."
"Isn't it fun being a Crusoe? I used to be the
Hermit Hunter of the Wilds; now I've turned
a Crusoe, and you're my man Friday."
"Befo' de Lawd, sah," said Ginger Brandy look-
ing tremendously serious all at once, "I tink de
sun or de soup hab affect you' head!"
Tom laughed.
"Don't you know what a Crusoe is?"
"Sumfin' to eat, plaps?"
"No, Brandy; it's nothing to eat or drink either.
Come, I'll tell you the story."
And as far as he could remember it, Tom told
(568)
M


178
A MYSTERIOUS PLACE.
Ginger Brandy all the romance of Juan Fernan-
dez, much to his delight.
"Dat is fus'rate, sah. Aha! you and I play at
Crusoes. Aha! dere is nuffin' like fun. Is dere,
sah? But now look, marster. De sun go down, all
red like one big slice ob pomola. You not well
yet, sah. S'pose you go to bed?"
And Tom did, and found himself so strong next
morning that he was able for a good long stroll.
Ginger Brandy came with him and helped to
carry his gun.
What a mysterious looking place it was, and
how black and dreary everything a little way
inland looked! Those fearsome lizards basking
on the dark burned rocks near the sea seemed
the evil genii of the place. Tom could not look
at them without shuddering.
But bigger and more powerful genii than they
have been at work here and all about in ages
long since passed away. The genii of volcanic
fire and water. The soil was everywhere brown
and scorched looking, extinct craters like shafts
of founderies stood here and there, and ugly dark
boulders lay scattered in the open as if they had
been rained from heaven. Among these, snakes
of many kinds wriggled hither and thither, or
lay coiled up in huge old half-broken shells. The
very bushes appeared black and blighted, and at
a little distance seemed to have no leaves; while
the birds that flew from bough to bough were


WAS HE DREAMING?
179
dusky, and even the moths and beetles were sad
in colour. And yet high above, the sky was blue,
and the billows out yonder sparkled in his rays
as if diamonds were being scattered on them by
angels' hands.
The shrubs and cacti that grew further from
the sea had branches so wildly erratic, and shapes
so weird, that do what he would Tom could not
disabuse his mind of the notion that either he
was really on an island of enchantment, or that
he was dreaming, and might awake at any
moment on board the 'Liza Ann.
The gun so far was useless; there was nothing
to shoot except those huge elephantic tortoises,
and that would have been cruel. They were as
deaf as posts, but wondrous quick in seeing. At
a little distance many of them looked like flat or
rounded rocks; and it was therefore rather start-
ling to one's nerves on getting alongside an im-
mense slab of supposed rock to find it had a long
neck and awful head, and that it hissed louder
than a python, and began to move away.
Tom was not sorry when the walk was over,
and he found himself once more reclining on his
sea-weed couch reading Shakespeare, while Gin-
ger Brandy busied himself not far off making
tortoise stew, with a bit of bacon in it to give it
a flavour. The delicious steam went all round
Tom's heart each time Brandy lifted the lid te
peep inside.


180
A NOVEL MODE OF FISHING.
Tom and Ginger Brandy spent many days at
the seaside, dragging the boat down sometimes
and going for a sail. In this way they cruised
round a considerable portion of the coast. They
found no signs of life anywhere, however, and
though they landed at several places they found
no tortoises.1
Inland they could see high hills, but all the
coast-line was bordered with black rocks, boulders,
and scoriæ. The ugly lizards were everywhere,
and swam in the water as well as crawled on the
beach.
As regards fish, Tom found the island coast a
mine of luxury. Wherever the water was fairly
shallow they found them in shoals, and could
capture them with their hands-at least Ginger
Brandy could; and his method of fishing was
peculiar, to say the least of it. First he divested
himself of his clothes, then overboard he sprang
like a frog. Holding one hand under the water,
he dropped a few crumbs of biscuit from the
other. The fish, by no means shy, sailed up at
once, and Brandy seized them one by one slowly
but surely, and threw them into the boat.
Tom was a fairly clever naturalist, but he
could not name a tenth of the many strange
1 Owing to the raids made upon these strange animals by the
American whalers they had become very scarce, but this island
not having been visited for many years, they had recuperated
their forces.-G. S.


EXPLORING THE ISLAND.
181
varieties of fish caught, nor even guess the
natural orders to which they belonged. Most
were edible.
Some were too gaudily coloured to be other-
wise than suspicious. These Brandy discarded.
Others were horribly grotesque, with immense
heads, diabolical faces and horns. Brandy would
have nothing to say to these either.
He held a frightfully ugly specimen up one
day for Tom's inspection.
66
'Is he for dinner, Ginger Brandy?"
"Gully, massy; no, sah. Plaps, sah, he one debil.
He no aflaid ob de fire nor de f'ying pan. Sup-
pose I put he ober de fire, sah, his ugly mouf
grow bigger, his horns grow longer, his eyes
grow fierce, den he switch his tail, jump out ob
de fire and gobble up bof you and me, and fly
away in de smoke."
"Brandy," said Tom one morning after break-
fast, "I'm strong enough now to explore."
"To 'splore, sah?"
"Yes, Brandy. To explore the island.”
"Well I'se strong 'nuff to 'splore mos' anyting,
sah."
"All right, we'll start. There is no fear of any-
one breaking into the house while we're away,
so you needn't lock the door, Brandy."
It was a delightful day, with a strong breeze
chafing the sea and roaring through the stunted
shrubs and thorny cacti. The sky too was over-


182
THE SIGHT FROM THE HILLTOP.
cast with clouds; and it being the end of October
some showers had fallen, so that the air was
wondrously cool considering that they were right
under the equator.
Tom felt as easy-minded and happy to-day as
ever he did in his life.
There was something in the very air of this
semi-enchanted isle of the ocean, that seemed to
engender happiness, and hope as well. Tom had
not begun to think yet if there was any chance
of his ever getting away from the island.
"One of these days," he said to Brandy, “you
and I will sit down and do a jolly big think. But
there is no occasion to hurry. Is there, Brandy?"
“O, I'se in no 'ticular hurry, sah! Not in de
slightest. I lub dis little island. 'Spose we lib
heah always, I not care."
For miles and miles they scrambled onwards
and upwards, wondering, like the little girl in
the fairy tale, where they would come to at last.
They took a straight course through the thorny
jungle; but afterwards found that though this
was the nearest route, it certainly was not the
quickest. Poor Brandy's feet were cut with cin-
ders and rocks, and both had their faces and
clothes torn with the cruel briers, that were as
sharp and long as penknives.
They found themselves on a hilltop at last,
and looking down, to their great astonishment,
into a perfect paradise.


AN INLAND PARADISE.
183
|
What was it like? It is not easy to describe.
Imagine if you can a vast green and flowery
valley, surrounded on all sides by romantic hills.
covered half-way to the top with waving woods,
their summits round, fantastic, coned, or serrated;
the valley itself containing every description of
beautiful scenery that can be conceived. Yonder
are green parks or fields, with cattle and donkeys
quietly browsing in them, and shrubby knolls
and patches of trees in their midst; yonder a
beautiful lake or pond, with cattle wading therein
or standing drowsily in its shallows; yonder a
racing streamlet, like a thread of silver, winding
through the plain till lost among the woods.
Down towards this paradise the Crusoes now
hurry, new wonders greeting their sight at every
turn. The forest itself is garlanded and festooned
with flowers, trailing, climbing, and hanging, and
shedding beauty everywhere. And when they
leave the woods at last and come into the open,
there are more marvels yet in store for them. A
herd of wild pigs start squeaking and grunting
away from a thicket of bananas, where they have
been feeding on the fruit. There are groves of
oranges, of citrons, and limes, and further on
patches of wild potatoes, yams, and vegetables
innumerable.
And to crown all the other wonders, lo! they
come to a house or rather a hut, and at a little
distance off there are others. But no smoke is


184
TRACES OF A CRIME.
now curling up from the compounds around.
The fences are decayed and overrun with creepers;
snakes glide here and there through what had
once been a pretty garden, and the door of the
principal hut has fallen from its hinges.
Nay, not fallen; it has been smashed in, and
the two skeletons that lie bleaching not far off—
one that of a child-tell the tale of a tragedy
that was enacted in these wilds many years ago
far more graphically than any words could have
done.
"I not like de look ob tings at p'esent, sah,"
said Brandy.
"Nor I either, my friend. But it is pretty
evident that this island has at one time been a
settlement, that there has been a foul deed done,
and that the murderers have fled. Never mind,
Brandy, we shall remove from the desolate triton-
haunted sea-shore to this lovely valley, and build
ourselves a hut. As for these poor remains we
will bury them. The wretches who committed
the crime doubtless landed from a ship, and the
story of their terrible iniquity may never, never
be known."
The Crusoes returned to the hut by the sea
that same evening, Brandy carrying on his
shoulder a tiny young pig, part of which he
meant to cook for supper.
They got up shortly after sunrise next day,
and were off to the wild interior again as soon


THEY DUG A GRAVE.
185
as breakfast had been discussed. Tom carried
his rifle, Brandy carried a spade.
In a little orange grove they dug a shallow
grave, and there laid the skeletons side by side.
and covered them up.
"We'll come some other day, Brandy, and
erect a cross here," said Tom as they walked away.
He paused several times to look back at the
spot he had chosen for a last resting-place for
the remains. It was peculiar, and the more he
thought of it the stranger it appeared. Three
trees had been planted at right angles to the
wood that rose over a hill on the east side of the
valley. They were equidistant, and close to the
centre one, almost overshadowed by it indeed,
was the grove of orange-trees and bananas in
which they had made the grave. No other trees
were anywhere nearer than the wood itself.
They must have been planted there as a mark
to something. But to what?
CHAPTER XVII.
STRANGE LIFE ON THE BEAUTIFUL ISLAND.
TOM TALISKER knew nothing for some
Malter this of the terrible tragedy that
time
had taken place on the island. The place had


186
THE OUTLOOK.
once been a small penal settlement for political
prisoners from Ecuador, the governor himself a
suspect; but the men had revolted and slain both
him and his family, and escaping on a raft or
boat had gone no one knew whither, though in
all probability to the bottom of the sea.
Such things as men landing from a passing
ship, to rob and mayhap murder a few inhabi-
tants of a lonely island, have happened many
times and oft, and might happen again, Tom
thought. He was determined, therefore, to be
prepared. So he built a little outlook, well
screened with trees, on the top of one of the
highest hills, and here he or Brandy could go
every morning to reconnoitre, with the aid of
the telescope they had brought with them. They
could from this vantage ground see passing ships,
and if possible signal to them by smoke or other-
wise; but if men came on shore who looked like
cut-throats, it would be easy for them to hide in
the forest.
The finding of the skeletons and their burial
in the orange grove did not tend to raise the
spirits of our hero; but as to Ginger Brandy,
nothing on earth was calculated to depress that
boy long. More than once next day, while they
were busily engaged building their new hut not.
far from the ruins of the old settlement, though
nearer to the orange grove, Brandy told Tom he
was glad they had been cast away here, and that


BUILDING A VILLA.
187
for his part he would be sorry if any ship found
them and brought them away.
The building of the new villa, as they called it,
was a work of time as well as art. First and
foremost they had to transport all their stores to
a tent of bamboo and plaintain leaves which they
erected near the old settlement. This necessitated
a great many journeys back and fore to the coast;
and when night came at last, and they could no
longer work, both were so tired that they fell
sound asleep after supper, and did not awake
until well into the morning.
Some cattle were browsing near, but they fled
in wild alarm as soon as they saw human beings.
One immense red-eyed fierce-looking bull at first
showed fight, but finally retreated slowly towards
the other end of the plain, growling ominously
as he did so, and giving Tom clearly to under-
stand that his presence here was an intrusion
that he should one day resent. This bull had
evidently been monarch of all he surveyed before
Tom's arrival, and now to be deposed was hard
indeed to bear.
But how labour lightens the mind. Both Tom
and his dusky companion were singing and
laughing all day long as they worked away at
the building of the villa.
It really was no child's play, however, which
they had taken in hand. All the uprights and
transverse beams, the couples, &c., had to be


188
A NEW HERMITAGE.
made of trees cut down in the woods, and borne
on the shoulders to the site they had chosen.
Here they had to be deprived of their bark, for
Tom knew better than leave any shelter in his
house for venomous creepie-creepies. While he
would be engaged at this bark-stripping Brandy
would be busy cooking the one great meal of
the day, namely, supper, which they discussed
together by the camp fire and under the stars.
It took them three whole weeks to complete
the building of the house, but when it was at
last finished they had good cause indeed to be
proud of their handiwork. It was certainly of
no great size, nor was it of very showy pretentions.
The couples that supported the grass roof came
right down to the ground, as they had no iron
nails big enough to affix it to the top of the
plank walls.
A couple of axes, a good saw, some
hammers and chisels, were all the tools they
possessed, and the nails had to be made of hard
wood, the holes to receive them being bored by
means of a piece of red-hot iron.
All their energies and all their ingenuity too
was therefore taxed to make a complete job of
this rustic dwelling.
"I tell you what it is, Brandy," Tom said one
day, "I thank my stars I had such a clever uncle
when a boy. Our hermitage in the woods was
built something in this fashion, and Uncle Robert
taught me how to use not only the woodman's


BY THE CAMP FIRE.
189
axe and the carpenter's saw, but the plasterer's
trowel as well."
"Yes, sah," replied Brandy; "and you mus'
tellee me mo' 'bout dat same uncle after dinner,
sah."
That after-dinner hour or two by the camp
fire was the most delightful of the whole twenty-
four. Tom was the story-teller, and his powers
of invention were so great that he never once
found himself short of material for a good spicy
tale of sea and land. All his adventures here and
there, in many lands and round the world, were
related to his companion with a hundred different
verbal embellishments; and Brandy made a most
excellent listener.
But Brandy himself had an accomplishment:
he could sing. His voice was a sweet contralto;
and, strange as it may seem, he always sung in
good English, though we know he could not talk
the language well. Tom taught him a great
many songs he had never known before. So,
what with story-telling and singing, the long
dark evenings passed quickly enough away, and
once they laid their heads down on their grass
pillows they knew no more about the world until
the sun rose once again.
Brandy was always first up, and Tom's break-
fast was waiting for him by the time he had come
back from the lake, where he used to have his
morning swim, much to the consternation of the


190
BLACK TOM AS AN ISLANDER.
half-wild ducks that floated there, and built their
nests among the sedges.
When the hut was built it was plastered inside
and out with a blackish clay, which finally grew
as hard as cement. Then some rude seats were
made, and a rough table, while all around the
house a garden was trenched and inclosed with a
plantation fence. All kinds of vegetables were
planted or sown in this garden, and flowers from
the woods and the valley planted in beds and
borders, with climbing ones along the fence; but
not along the walls. Tom knew better than
that, for during their work in the woods he had
come across some very awful-looking spiders, and
other ugly crawling things that he wished to
keep at as safe a distance as possible.
If Brandy was enamoured of his wild and
lonely life, so was Black Tom, the cat. He was
seldom at home from sunrise till sunset; but
invariably put in an appearance at dinner-time,
and kept up the old sea custom of sleeping in
his master's arms every night. Tom had come
to love this honest cat so much, that he even
doubted whether he would not as soon have lost
Brandy himself as puss. If he happened to be
half an hour late of an evening his master would
even put dinner back till he came.
Black Tom one day proved himself a friend in
need in a very remarkable manner.
All unconscious of danger Tom Talisker was


ADVENTURE WITH A BULL.
191
coming singing to himself, gun on shoulder, across
the plain, when out from the woods rushed that
fiery-eyed bull. He was close on Tom before he
knew what was about to happen. His rifle was
unloaded. Instinct caused him to run, and he
did his best while doing so to get a cartridge
in.
On rushes the maddened brute, with tail erect
and awful horned head at the charge. It seems
as if nothing can save Tom. The cartridge will
neither go in nor come out from where it has
stuck. But at that moment something rushes
past Tom which at first he can hardly see. It is
his feline friend, and he springs at once on the
bull's head with a yell of anger and claws at his
eyes. This is more than the bull has bargained
for. He pauses and tosses his head wildly in the
air, but the cat keeps firm hold.
At last the cartridge goes home, and Tom
advances now. But where to fire is the difficulty.
His aim must be a steady one, else he may kill
his little protector.
Bang! at last, and the bull drops. Dead? Yes,
dead; for the bullet has entered behind and below
the ear, torn through the carotid artery, and lodged
in the brain itself.
The cat comes singing up now and rubs him-
self against his master's knee, and the two walk
home together.
The very next day another huge black bull


192
BRANDY'S OPINION OF BLACK TOM.
was seen to quietly possess himself of the dead
monarch's flock. Where he had come from Tom
could not even guess, but the probability is he
had been condemned to a life in the woods during
his predecessor's reign.
"Do cats go to heaben w'en dey dies, sah?"
asked Brandy one evening as the three friends
lounged near the camp fire.
66
'What makes you speak so, Brandy?"
66"
'Cause, sah, I 'spects dat cat is one angel, sah.
I 'spects some day he talk."
"Well, I shouldn't wonder a great deal. Indeed,
I would not wonder at anything that happened
in this strange island."
It may be as well mentioned that never an
evening did Tom lie down without reading a
portion of the Bible that his mother had given
him, and praying a simple but earnest little prayer
for their own safety during the silent watches of
the night, and for those who were far, far away in
their homes beyond the sea.
No work was ever done on Sunday, and no
stories told except those of Bible lands or the
sweet old story of our salvation, which the negro
boy was never tired listening to.
One evening, about three months after they
had landed on the island, a terrible storm swept
over it. The lightning seemed to set the very
woods on fire, and to run along the ground in the
awful rain. Next day the inland lake was a


A SORROWFUL LAD WAS HE
193
little sea, and acres of the forest had been levelled
to the ground by the force of the gale.
When Brandy went out in the morning to
prepare breakfast, a sorrowful lad was he; for the
rain had completely drowned out the fire, and
there were no matches.
He was not to be beaten, however; and so set
to work to make fire in the usual way adopted by
savages-piercing a hole in a piece of soft plank
and twirling a pointed piece of very hard dry
wood. It took him nearly an hour, however, to
accomplish the feat.
Two months passed away, making five months
in all since the foundering of the 'Liza Ann, but
all that time they had never seen a passing ship.
True, they spent only a part of the day at the
outlook; but the view was so extensive that had
a vessel been anywhere within a radius of twenty
miles or more they would have discried it.
All the food, consisting chiefly of biscuits and
tinned meats which they had taken from the
ship, had long since been finished; but this was a
small matter so long as their ammunition held
out. Of this, however, Tom was now unusually
careful; and for ordinary purposes of hunting
they used bows and arrows, and soon became
very accomplished marksmen indeed.
They also paid frequent visits to the sea-
shore, and, embarking in their dinghy, caught
fish. As to fruit and vegetables, these were
(568)
N


194
TOM TURNS TAILOR AND COBBLER.
abundant; so that on the whole they wanted for
nothing.
Salt, by the way, was at first wanting, till Tom
thought of the old-fashioned plan of placing sea-
water in shallows or rocks. When it evaporated
it left a crust of saline matter, and this had to do
duty as a relish.
And now with constant hard work in the
forest their clothes began to get somewhat
ragged, and also their shoes; so Tom had to learn.
two new trades, those of shoemaker-or rather
cobbler-and tailor. As for Ginger Brandy, he
dispensed entirely with the use of shoes, and
almost entirely with clothes even. He told Tom
that he was not afraid of the sun spoiling his
complexion.
"But, O marster," he added, "you is getting
redder ebery day. Bymeby you turn brown, den
black, and den dere will be two niggah boys.
Aha! Your ole moder won't know you, sah,
when you goes home."
"Home, Brandy!" said Tom with a sigh.
"Heigh-ho! I begin to think we will never,
never see home any more."
Yes, Tom had sighed. It was the first sigh for
liberty; for albeit the wild free life the two
Crusoes led now was very enjoyable, there
were times when, do as he might, he could not
prevent thoughts of home from crowding into his
mind.


CONTENTMENT.
195
But he could not help thinking also how happy
he was to have such a faithful companion as
Ginger Brandy. To be quite alone on such an
island as this at night and all the livelong day
would, he thought, have driven him out of his
mind.
The silence was irksome by day, although then
there were the songs of birds and the loud hum
of insect life; but at night hardly a hush was to
be heard, except now and then a strange eerie
cry in the forest that only served to make the
solitude feel more deep and awful.
They were several miles inland, and yet every
night the sound of the waves breaking on the
rocks fell distinctly on their ears, and all night
long till sunrise awakened once more the voices
of the woods and glens.
There grew a tree with a tall, slim, even stem
not far from the hut, and every Saturday after-
noon Tom cut a notch thereon, and thus kept
count of time. One day he reckoned these up.
There were thirty-eight in all! He started. He
could hardly believe it. But it was true never-
theless. They had been over eight long months
on the island!
And the time had gone quickly enough by.
Tom could not say he was unhappy. There was
something in the very air they breathed which
had seemed to brew contentment, and make the
days fly quickly past.


196
A NEW USE FOR TORTOISES,
Birds and beasts too became very tame. Wild
ducks even came in flocks to the water's edge to
be fed, and the new bull was such a gentlemanly
fellow that he used to lead his cows towards the
hut to be milked. The mocking-birds would sit
on the fence at sundown and sing low and sweetly
till darkness fell, and moon or stars shone out.
But I have something still more wonderful to
relate. Those elephantic tortoises that came
almost every day to look for their favourite food
in the valley-a species of sweet and esculent
cactus-grew so tame at last that they no longer
drew in their necks or even hissed when Tom or
Brandy approached, which they never did without
an armful of something for them to eat.
They had their regular beaten tracks to or from
the high plateau where the Crusoes lived. When
upon these they turned neither to the right hand
nor to the left, but went steadily though slowly
on to their journey's end.
Well, Brandy and Tom soon fell upon a plan to
take advantage of this. If they wanted to go
towards the beach they would turn a monster in
that direction on his beaten pathway, then mount
his back and be hauled away. If the monsters
they squatted on felt disinclined to move, they
had only to strike two on the shell and off they
waddled.
This was glorious fun, and only had one draw-
back-the tortoises seldom moved at a quicker


ON THE HILLTOP.
197
pace than two miles an hour; but as time was no
object to either Tom or Brandy, it did not make
much difference in the long run. They were
always good to their strange steeds and never
attempted to ride back to the valley, and it is to
be hoped the tortoises appreciated their good-
ness.
CHAPTER XVIII.
"HE WAS CONVINCED NOW HE HAD SEEN A
SPECTRE AND NOTHING ELSE."
W
HEN a few months more had gone over
their heads it is no wonder that the time
began to seem a little longer.
Tom spent more time now alone by himself at
the outlook station on the hilltop. I really ought
not to say "alone," however, when so faithful a
companion as puss was with him.
Brandy and he had built a sun shelter here,
and as there was always a little breeze blowing
it was delightful enough to sit under cover and
read or write. He read his Shakespeare till he
had it well nigh by heart, and used to spend
hours in reciting. Often of an evening too he
used to delight his dusky companion by reading
nearly a whole play. This was a pleasant way
of spending the time. But he thought of an-


198
WAITING FOR THE MOON.
other, and one which Ginger Brandy became
quite enamoured of. This was simply the good
old-fashioned game of draughts; and over this
they spent many a quiet and pleasant evening.
It was very easy to make a board, and anything
did duty as men-slices of vegetables, for in-
stance.
Although it fell dark shortly after sunset in
this island, it must not be supposed they wanted
light. No; for from the fat of the animals killed
for food they made excellent candles, the wicks
being composed of a kind of pith from rushes
that grew plentifully near the water's edge.
In the mornings Brandy went hunting in the
woods or over the hills with his master, then he
would go by himself to the hut to get dinner
ready, and prepare to have a delightful hour or
two before retiring. But it soon grew a habit
with Tom to spend the afternoon with pussy at
the outlook.
But, alas! he swept the horizon in vain for any
signs of the coming ship.
One afternoon a sharp thunder-storm kept him
longer at his station than usual. But the sun
went down, and darkness came on apace, before
he had recognized that it was so late. It would
be impossible now to find his way down through
the woods until the moon should rise. Brandy
would certainly be anxious about him; but there
was no help for it, wait he must.


WAS IT A SPECTRE?
199
Happily the moon was nearly a full one, when
it did rise he would have plenty of light.
But waiting here was certainly lonesome.
He began to think of home, and before many
minutes he was in dreamland. And the spirit of
his dreams flew away with him far over the sea,
far over the wild mountain lands of Ecuador,
across Colombia, and across the wide Atlantic to
the dear old farm of Craigielea; and he found
himself, as he thought, walking towards the
house from the pine-wood, with little laughing
'Theena by his side. Theena was not a whit
bigger, nor did she seem a day older, than when
he had left her. Nor was his mother, father, and
uncle at all astonished to see him, but simply
made room for him at the fireside, as in the days
of yore; and he sat as of old at his sister's feet,
with her loving fingers entwined in his hair.
How long he had slept he could not tell. He
awoke with a start at last; for the cat had
sprung on his shoulder, and was growling low
and ominously. The moon was very high now,
and suddenly escaping from a cloud shone full
on the figure of a man, or—was it a spectre?
An unaccountable feeling of superstitious
dread seized him, and he trembled in every limb.
The figure was tall, and as well as could be made
out dressed in skins, but with naked brown arms
and feet. The face was almost black, and a short
dark beard curled round cheeks and chin.


200
AMONG THE SHADOWS.
Next instant he or it had glided silently behind
a tree.
Tom forced a laugh to relieve his mind.
"I have been dreaming," he said aloud.
But surely there must have been something
there, else why had the cat growled?
For the first time in his life, as far as he could
remember, he experienced something akin to
genuine fear as he set out to walk homewards
through the woods.
The clouds were very high to-night, which
gave the moon the appearance of being exceed-
ingly far away. The whole sky, partially over-
cast with these soft-looking feathery clouds, had
little rifts of deep dark blue between, and it was
only when the moon escaped into one of these
that everything could be seen distinctly.
But a hundred times at least during his jour-
ney through that wild forest Tom started, as he
thought he saw that strange skin-clad man lurk-
ing among the bushes.
What a relief it was to his feelings when he
got clear at last of the weird-looking trees, whose
very shadows to-night seemed to enter his soul!
And, look, yonder was Brandy bounding joyfully
to meet him.
"O, sah, sah, I'se so glad you come. I tink
you lost. I tink I nebber, nebber see you no
more. And de drefful man, sah! O, he scare
poor Brandy a'most to def, sah.”


THE SPECTRE AGAIN.
201
"The man, Brandy! What, you have seen
him too? Then it was no apparition."
"I dun know nuffin', sah. I was bend down
near de fire to makee he burn up more bright,
den I hear a footstep. I look up plenty quick,
and dere O, it was drefful, sah, dat hairy man,
all same's one big baboon!"
"Which way did he go?"
""
'Round by de ruins, sah.
Den I see him run
I tink he one
to de forest, O, ebber so fast!
ghost, sah. Den I tink plaps he hab murder
you, and I turn pale wid fear."
"Come along anyhow," said Tom, "and give
me some dinner. I am famishing, and food will
banish fear; though, Brandy, I think it would
take a good deal to make you turn pale."
Hardly anything else was thought about that
night except the apparition; and lest he should
come again at midnight, Tom loaded his rifle and
kept it handy by his couch.
Days wore by, and nothing more was seen of
the hairy man, and Tom began to think it must
after all have been a baboon. Brandy and he
went to the woods together as usual; but after
this somehow neither cared to stay alone at the
outlook station, and they were always at home
by nightfall.
One evening, however,-a clear and starlit one
it was, with everything easily seen at a consider-
able distance-Tom was taking a last look


202
THE GRAVE VIOLATED.
round before turning in, when he saw that figure
again crossing the plain not a hundred yards
away.
He followed slowly. He seemed impelled to
follow. The figure glided on silently far in
front, and finally disappeared in the orange
grove where the graves were.
While following the strange figure Tom had
experienced no fear; but immediately it dis-
appeared the same unaccountable feeling of
apprehension stole over him, and he retraced his
steps to the hut, nor would he have gazed behind
him for all the world.
He was convinced now in his own mind that
he had seen a spectre and nothing else.
Curiosity led Brandy and him to visit the
orange grove next day, nevertheless.
What they saw almost took their breath away
for a moment.
The grave had been opened, the skeletons
taken up and thrown on one side, and quite a
quantity of earth excavated from the bed in
which they had lain.
"No spectre has done this," said Tom as soon
as he had recovered the power of speech.
<<
man.
Look, marster," said Brandy; "it is de ebil
He hab drefful claws."
The sides of the grave really did appear to
have been clawed at, and this only deepened the
mystery.


TOM'S PLAN OF ACTION.
203
Tom touched nothing; he even obliterated the
marks of their footsteps, and left the skeletons as
they were.
"Was the creature who had done this deed a
ghoul?" he could not help thinking as he walked
silently back to the hut with Ginger Brandy.
"Brandy," he said that afternoon, "let us have
an early dinner to-night."
"Sartinly, sah. But-"
"But what, my friend?"
"Dere am sumfing strange in your eye, sah.
You is goin' to de grabe after dinner to watch?"
"You have guessed aright, Brandy.
going to the grave to watch.
I am
Be this creature
man or beast, fiend or ghoul, I shall get to the
bottom of the mystery to-night."
"Brandy go too?"
"No, you must stop in the hut; and you must
keep Black Tom in too. The cat might spoil
all."
"I stay at home den, marster. But I dreffully
frightened."
66
There is no occasion to be frightened, Brandy.
Say your prayers, and nothing will happen to
you or to me."
“O, I pray, sah, fo' true. I pray all de time
you away; but I dreffully aflaid all de same."
The moon would not rise to-night till past
twelve, and there was little likelihood of the
creature visiting the orange grove before then.


204
A LONELY VIGIL.
But soon after ten o'clock Tom, with revolver
in belt, left the hut, and betook himself across
the plain to the little grove of trees where the
now unburied skeletons lay.
The tree that overshadowed the place afforded
ample room for concealment, so he climbed well
and sat down to watch.
Would the ghoul appear?
up
How very long the time seemed!
The silence was intense to-night, for not a
breath of air was stirring among the leaves.
The moan of the restless sea was distinctly
audible. And at intervals strange voice-sounds
came from the woods, and from the lonesome far-
off hills; sounds that perhaps birds or beasts
emitted, and which it was difficult to locate
exactly, for at times they appeared to come from
the very sky itself. But they made Tom feel
very eerie, and more than once he repented of
his rashness, and wished he had not undertaken
so lonely a vigil.
At long last the moon rose red and rosy over
the mountains, and soon its light glimmered
through the orange trees and fell in patches on
and around the grave.
Tom placed his hand on his revolver, and sat
on his perch as silent as the leaves themselves.


THE CREATURE IN THE GRAVE.
205
CHAPTER XIX.
UNDER THE GRAVE YOU DUG ARE GOLD AND
PRECIOUS STONES."
HE creature, whatever it was, came at last,
THEA
and so silently, too, that Tom was startled.
How his heart did beat! It was audible to him-
self, it caused him even to shake, and he fancied
he could even feel the branch of the tree tremble
under him.
The figure stood for fully a minute gazing down
into the grave; then a sigh escaped it, and descend-
ing into the hollow the operation of digging was
commenced with vigour. Not with the hands or
claws, however, but with a huge white shell; and
it was the marks of this on the sides of the exca-
vation that had so alarmed poor Brandy.
The strength of the creature seemed enormous,
and the grave got deeper and deeper every minute.
But in a short time the figure desisted, and stand-
ing up wiped the perspiration from its brow. This
was a very human act, and went far to banish
fear from Tom's heart. Almost at the same mo-
ment the creature turned its face up towards the
moonlight, and Tom was able to satisfy himself
it was a man and nothing else.
He made up his mind for instant action now,
and just as this skin-clad savage had commenced


206
A STRANGE CAPTURE.
to dig again he sprang lightly from the tree and
stood before him, revolver in hand.
An eldritch scream was the first result of this
manoeuvre of Tom's, and the wild man attempted
to scramble from the grave.
"Hold, my friend!-hold!" cried Tom. "I am
armed. You see my pistol. Do not force me to
fire."
Fire!-no, no, no!" was the reply in strangely
broken and semi-guttural English. "Fire me!
-no, no! I surrend—I surrend—I prison-I
prison-"
"Yes, you are my prisoner. But you have no-
thing to fear; only come along with me to my
hut. Promise me you will not run away, and I
and my black servant will do everything we can
for your comfort.”
"You English? No, I fly not from Englishmen.
I took you-Spanish-Ecuador."
The strange being was smiling now.
"O!" he continued, "I-happy."
It was soon evident to Tom that this wild man
was, like himself, a Briton, but must have been
so long a recluse that he had forgotten his own
language. This became more apparent every
minute. Tom's voice and talking seemed to re-
call words and phrases to him, though for weeks
after their meeting the man could not finish any
long word.
Great indeed was Brandy's surprise and terror



Jay.B.
568
"YOU HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR," SAID TOM.





THIS IS AN ENGLISHMAN.
207
when Tom walked into the hut in company with
the very apparition they had both seen, and who
had clawed up the grave.
"Come, Brandy, boy, don't stand and stare.
This is an Englishman. He was only afraid of
us because he thought we were Spanish. Get us
supper quick, and get something nice while you
are about it."
Brandy took one more look at the wild man,
then laughing heartily held out his hand. This
was cordially shaken, and thus friendly relations
between all three were speedily established. Nay,
but between all four, I should say; for Black Tom
soon jumped on the stranger's knee and gave vent
to his pleasure in a song.
But," said Brandy, "I take you for de debil
at fust, sah. But now I'se mistaken. Aha! O,
golly! dere is one big load tumble off dis chile's
liber. Aha! I not turn pale wid fear no more.'
And away bustled Brandy to get the supper
ready.
22
The wild man ate what was placed before him
almost ravenously, though with little regard to
table etiquette. Indeed, Tom half thought at one
time he wanted to take the food into a corner
quietly and devour it as a tiger does his prey.
He spoke scarcely a word all the time supper
was being partaken of, but he was evidently far
from at ease. The wind had risen now and was
moaning drearily round the hut, and he started


208
THE WILD MAN OF THE WOODS.
often and listened as if he heard voices in it.
When Brandy had cleared away he spoke at last.
'I-go-now," he said with some hesitation,
"to the woods."
"C
"No, no, no!" cried Tom. 'My dear friend,
you are safe here. Yonder on a bed of grass you
shall sleep. Nothing shall hurt you. To-morrow,
or rather to-day-for it is late-we will talk."
And the strange wild man extended a sleepy
hand to Tom, smoothed the cat- a touch of
nature not lost on Tom-and went and threw
himself on his bed, and almost immediately went
sound asleep.
Before Brandy retired he advanced furtively
and half fearfully to his master, and pointing to
the recumbent figure, "Marster," he said, “he
safe--puffikly safe? And he not de debil-
you is sure? Den I sleep. All same, I pray
some mo","
Both Brandy and Tom slept late. When they
awoke they found the wild man's couch deserted.
But he had not fled; he was outside lying under
a bush playing with the cat; and when Tom pro-
posed an adjournment to the lake for the purpose
of ablution and a swim, he joyfully assented.
Tom was perfectly astonished at the wild man's
prowess in the water. He had all the strength
and agility of a seal.
After breakfast Tom and he went off for a
walk in the woods. They went not anywhere


YANAKOVA.
209
near the orange grove to-day. They passed over
the hill where the outlook station was.
"I see you often here," said Tom's companion.
"I wish you had revealed yourself sooner."
"I was afraid.
house?"
Say, will you come to my
Tom looked at him just once. Yes, he could trust
him. There was something almost benevolent in
the man's face, wild though he was and had been.
His eye was a dark and kindly one, and strangely
enough Tom thought that he had seen someone
like him somewhere. He was not old, this wild
man-probably but little older than Tom; and
he was remarkably handsome-every movement
of his lithe body was as graceful and easy as
those of the jaguar.
"What shall I call you?" said Tom.
"My name is Yanakova."
It
He led Tom through the woods and wilds for
many miles, then into a close dark bit of jungle
near the top of a high hill. Here was a cave.
was lined with skins and carpeted with skins—
skins everywhere, indeed.
From the doorway of this strange dwelling,
where the bushes were tied back with a piece of
thong, they could see the ocean spread blue and
beautiful far beneath them, the sea-beach with
the white line of breaking waters, and all the
greenery of hills and dells, ending in the dark
and burned border around the sea.
(568)
O


210
THE WILD MAN'S STORY.
Here the two new-made friends rested for
nearly an hour, hardly speaking, for the day
was a drowsy one.
"My good Yanakova," said Tom at last, "will
you tell me your story? It must be a strange
one."
"c
I'll tell you my story," said Yanakova with
all the simplicity of a little child. And he spoke
as follows, though it would be impossible to give
the exact words, or even to describe the wild
man's method of talking:—
66
My story is a sad one. I will begin not at
the beginning but the end of it, when I met you.
I took you for Spanish. Most of the Spanish I
hate. But I had one friend among them. He was
governor of this island long, long ago. We were
convicts all, in number ten. The others had died
or been taken away. Then the government of
Ecuador forgot us. Sometimes in long intervals
a ship would come, but not often. So the gover-
nor told me. They came for tortoises, but the
tortoises were nearly all killed; then they came
But the convicts were bad; they rose
one day and killed my friend the governor and
his children. I fought like a madman. I loved
the governor. But they left me for dead, and
went away in a raft from the island. I could
not look at the settlement after that. I fled to
the woods, and lived as best I could."
"Had you been long on the island?"
no more.


THE OTHER PART OF THE STORY.
211
"If I can judge of time, only a year or
two. But it seemed an age. O, I feel very
old!"
"But, Yanakova, what had you done to deserve
banishment here?"
"I was an Indian chief. I came from the
eastern wilds of Ecuador with fifty warriors.
They said I conspired against the government;
and so they sent me here. I do not now repent
it. I have met you."
"But stay, Yanakova, this is not all your ter-
ribly eventful history. Go farther back into the
past-tell me of your childhood, your earlier days,
your parents."
"No, no, no!" cried Yanakova; "that is all a
dream, and some part of it is a fearful dream. I
do not wish to dream that dream again."
<<
Then listen, Yanakova, and I will tell you a
story—a brief one."
As Tom spoke he was sitting on a fallen tree
at the entrance to the cave, his wild companion
lying at full length at his feet, leaning on his
elbows and gazing intently and intensely at
Tom's face as he proceeded with his story.
"There was a ship many years ago" he said,
'that sailed away from England to visit strange
islands and countries on the Pacific shore; for
the captain was rich, owned his ship, and dearly
loved a life on the ocean wave. He had a wife
and a little boy, and both went with him. Nay


212
THE LOST FOUND.
more, on the sea a baby was born; and no one
was happier than the kindly captain then."
Tom paused.
"Go on. Speak quick," cried Yanakova.
<<
'It came to pass soon after, that thinking to
make themselves rich, the crew, under the com-
mand of an evil-minded half-caste, mutinied.
They killed the mate, and those of the men that
had taken the captain's part. Then they ran the
ship on the rocks and left the rest to perish.'
"All the rest?"
22
'No, not all the rest. They took away the
boy, and the boy's nurse, and sold them both for
slaves-"
Yanakova's excitement was almost fearful to
witness. He had raised himself to his knees, and
thus remained clutching Tom's hands.
"The boy's name?" he gasped.
"Bernard Herbert, and you are he!"
"Then the Great Spirit has heard my prayer.
I have found one who can tell me of my parents.
Does mother live?"
((
Alas, no. But your sister and father lives, I
hope."
"My sister?"
"(
Yes, the child "Theena."
'Then tell me more, tell me all, and tell who
you are."
""
So Tom had to repeat the story of his own life
and adventures from the very beginning, Ber-


THE DREAM HAS COME TRUE.
213
nard never once taking his eyes off his face while
he spoke.
When he had finished, Tom took from a little
pocket-book a bunch of portraits, and handed
them to his companion. He looked half afraid
of them at first.
"O," he cried, "is this right? I have seen such
things at Quito. Are these the souls of these
peoples stolen away?"1
"No, no," replied Tom laughing. "Only sun
pictures-only shadow likenesses."
He handled them rapidly now; but put them
all aside except one-his mother's.
On this he gazed long and fondly, the tears
meanwhile chasing each other adown his sun-
browned face.
Tom was glad to see him weep. It was so
human. He was no longer the savage, no longer
the wild man. He was Bernard Herbert, 'Theena's
brother.
Then Tom told him more about 'Theena, and
about the dream he had in his boyhood.
"C
Part of this dream has come true," said Tom;
“and you see the Great Spirit has also heard my
prayer. The other part about going back to my
own country wealthy and restoring the old castle
was but a child's idle folly. O, Bernard, if ever
we can leave this island, and return to dear old
1 This is the idea Indians have of photographs.


214
THE TREASURE HOARD.
Craigielea and my parents, I shall be happy even
if in rags."
""
"O, but stay, brother, stay. You shall be
wealthy. In the orange grove down yonder,
under the grave you dug, are more gold and
precious stones than we could carry or even lift.
I found the treasure; but I touch it not unless
you consent to share it.”
66
'This, then," said Tom laughing now, "is the
secret of the grave we had thought desecrated.
Come, then, we shall bury the skeletons else-
where; and, if we are fortunate ever to get away
from this lonely island, I will share your trea-
sure."
"Thank you, brother, thank you. How good
the Great Spirit is to us at last!"
A
CHAPTER XX.
"O, BERNARD, IT IS YOUR FATHER'S SHIP!"
FTER the strange meeting with Bernard
Herbert, his imprisonment on the lonely
island no longer felt irksome to Tom Talisker.
Indeed, for a time at all events, he was in no
hurry for "the ship" to come. Had it arrived
the first week even, I daresay Tom would have
been a little disappointed. O, it was bound to


TOM AND BERNARD.
215
appear some day or other; all three prisoners
felt sure of that. For they were young and
healthy, and therefore they were happy and
hopeful. Why should they not enjoy life as
thoroughly as possible, therefore? They did so
anyhow.
They hunted, they fished, they roamed through
the woods and wild glens, and studied nature in
its every phase and form, and in fact really felt
part and parcel of the living joys and wonders
all around them.
66
It is very well being a Crusoe, for a short
time all by yourself," Tom said one day to
Bernard; "but it is doubly delightful to have a
companion."
The very flowers seemed more beautiful now,
the trees looked greener, and the sky and sea a
deeper blue.
Strange to say, neither Tom nor Bernard
thought twice of the buried treasure.
It was
there waiting them when they wanted it. Far
more in gold alone than would purchase all the
lands of Craigielea, and half the parish besides.
They did not even trouble themselves to wonder
how it had come there. A dying convict had
told Bernard its whereabouts-a convict that he
had befriended-and doubtless it had been con-
cealed long years ago by the buccaneers who
infested these seas in the good old times.
The huge tame tortoises were a source of end-


216
PETER AND JOHN.
They even
Two of these
less amusement to the Crusoes.
managed to domesticate them.
especially were great pets and favourites. Both
were old males-bulls Bernard called them; and
there is really no saying how long they might
not have crawled about the island-probably a
hundred years if not two. Tortoises are animals
that take life wondrously easy. They never
hurry, and most assuredly never worry; and thus
they manage to exist for a whole century, and
live happy ever afterwards.
One would think that during such a long
innings the Galapagos tortoise would amass a
vast deal of wisdom. Perhaps they do; but, if
so, they keep it to themselves. They seem to
know that silence is golden, and consequently
stick to it. These two giants, Peter and John
the Crusoes called them, knew well enough what
was good for them; and that is more than some
boys do. Their food was collected for them, and
they stopped eating at once when nature was
satisfied; and they never touched anything that
was left, a second time. If stale food were offered
to them, they snorted and drew in their heads at
once; but as soon as the half-dry stuff was taken
away, and some nice juicy morsels of cacti placed
about a yard off, out came the heads again. Not
quickly; O, no, they did not even hurry them-
selves in putting their heads out; though they
always managed to draw them in with a jerk


STRANGE PETS.
217
when offended. Black Tom was their particular
aversion. I cannot understand why, but as soon
as he appeared, "Pshaw!" they would shout, and
in went their heads in a moment; and away
Black Tom would fly, with his tail on end and
like a bottle brush. The cat could growl and
hiss pretty well himself; but not in the terribly
startling way the tortoises did. John was the
better-natured of these two race-horses. That is
the reason they call him John. The other was a
little crotchety so they called him Peter. Peter
did not like anyone to point a stick or even a
finger at him. If you did so, you offended him
at once. "Pshaw!" he would cry, and draw in
his head, and one could not help feeling mean.
But you might have pointed a finger all day
long at John, and he would not have troubled
himself.
Is it possible, I wonder, for huge ungainly
monsters like these to possess affection? I my-
self believe it is; and that John grew really fond
of Tom. For sometimes after eating his dinner,
instead of drawing in his neck and going quickly
to sleep as his brother Peter did, John started
looking or staring at Tom, if he happened to
be lying reading out of doors. It was a long,
steady, stony stare, that lasted for perhaps half
an hour at a time. Bernard used to say that he
saw a smile on John's face; but Tom would not
admit that. However, there was no mistake


218
A WILLING PUPIL.
about the staring; for Tom used to shift his
position, and the head and neck followed him
slowly round. But John never turned his body
round. That would have been far too much
trouble. When Tom got tired of being stared at
like this he used to call for pussy. That was
enough for John. "Pshaw!" he would cry, and
in would go the neck.
In about a month's time Bernard Herbert,
though still dressed in garments made of skin,
was as thoroughly civilized as could be wished,
and his English was now unexceptionably good.
But though a handsome man, he was a terribly
red-brown one. The tanning his skin had re-
ceived in the wilds of the eastern lands of
Ecuador would probably never leave it; only
there was surely nothing to be sorry for on this
account.
Tom had commenced to teach Bernard to read,
and, partly because his heart was in it, and partly
because he really was very clever, he soon made
excellent progress.
One forenoon when Brandy was away in the
woods Tom had just sat down to give Brother
Bernard, as he called him, a lesson, when they
heard a distant shout, and looking up beheld the
negro boy coming rushing wildly over the plain.
Tom ran for his rifle, then hastened to meet
him, not knowing what might be the matter.


66 A SHIP! A SHIP!"
219
He hailed the lad when near enough; but Brandy
had no voice now, he could only point away sea-
wards and make faces.
"Is it a ship?" cried Tom.
Brandy signalled assent, and back ran Tom,
shouting wildly, madly, exultantly—
"A ship! A ship!"
And Bernard threw his goat-skin cap in the
air and joined the chorus, for Brandy had recovered
his breath, and the very woods and welkin rang
with-
"A ship! A ship!
!"
Then away they all hurried together to the
look-out station.
The vessel was standing steadily in towards
the land, with all sail set.
But Tom had only to look at her once before
he exclaimed:
"O, Bernard, it is the Caledonia! It is your
father's ship!"
Bernard smiled faintly, then pressed both hands
to his heart, as if in sudden pain. Strong man
though he was, the joyful and sudden news was
almost too much for him.
He recovered in a moment though; then, as if
by some sudden impulse, the three joined hands
and danced and capered there until they were
fain to desist from sheer exhaustion. They quieted
down after this. They had allayed their excite-
ment, blown off their steam. But for the time


220
ALLAYING THE FEELINGS.
being surely no madder, dafter dance had ever
been danced on a hilltop. Brandy, with his black
face and white rolling eyes, the wild red man in
his skins, and honest Tom Talisker in his rags-
a comical trio!
I think when the dance was over they were all
a little ashamed of it; but after all what else could
they have done under the circumstances?
"Well, sah," said Ginger Brandy, "I'se 'llayed
my feelings plenty proper."
"And I've allayed mine," said Tom.
"I think," said Bernard, "that dance has saved
my reason."
"And now," cried Tom, "look, yonder goes the
anchor down. Let us run and meet them."
Well, surely there is truth in the old saying
that wonders will never cease, for who should
Tom meet near the shore coming panting up the
tortoise-path but Uncle Robert himself.
"O, may the Lord be praised, my boy, we have
found you."
And for one moment Tom in his rags was
pressed to the old man's heart, and, will it be
believed, he was sobbing like a child.
Uncle Robert saw he could not speak, though
he was trying hard to, so he wisely forestalled
his questions.
"Your mother and father, sister and brothers
are all well, and 'Theena is here on board the
Caledonia."


"I AM YOUR BOY."
221
About the same time an earnest-eyed red man
in goat skins had rushed up to Captain Herbert
on the beach.
"Father," he said. "Do not start, I am your
boy, Bernard!"
But wonders had not ceased even yet. For,
coming along the path, clambering over lumps
of scoriæ and kicking away cinders, was Barnaby
Blunt himself.
"I tell you what it is, friends, this is about the
prettiest bit of an ending to a drama that ever I
see'd in all my born days, and I reckon nobody'll
care to contradict me. Here was Captain Barnaby
Blunt foundered at sea, and took to boats,
separated from his dinghy and finally picked
up by a whaler, who landed him at Buenos Ayres.
Here five months afterwards was Captain Her-
bert, and my young friend's Uncle Robert, come
out from England to look for their runaway
boys, and here we all meet again as unexpected
as if we had dropped out of a balloon. If it
ain't about the strangest and queerest thing
that ever happened, then may Barnaby Blunt
never command a ship of his own again, nor meet
his dear old wife, 'Liza Ann. And here's Brandy
himself."
Then this queer old Quaker Yankee got serious
all at once.
"I say, men and boys," he said, "don't you think
we've all got a deal to be thankful for. Then let


222
ON BOARD THE "CALEDONIA."
us just kneel down here among the cinders and
praise God's holy name."
They did kneel down-just there, where they
had been standing, and if Barnaby Blunt's prayer
was brief it was heartfelt.
·
Reader, my story is all but ended, and I am not
the one to keep the curtain up a single minute
longer than is necessary.
Just as they were then, in their rags and skins,
Captain Herbert insisted on bundling them on
board the Caledonia. "Bundling" is the right
word in the right place.
When Tom Talisker saw advancing to meet him
on the quarter-deck a beautiful girl of some
seventeen summers—we should always call it
summers when talking of a lady's age-he felt
inclined to hang fire, and Bernard was half afraid
too.
But Tom soon screwed up his courage, took
Brother Bernard by the hand, and both advanced;
and when she looked at them 'Theena first smiled
and then laughed right heartily, though the tears
were rolling over her face all the time. And
everybody joined in the laugh, even the Crusoes
themselves.
The treasure was safely loaded and stowed, and
let me say to his credit that Barnaby Blunt was
not a bit jealous of the young men's luck.


FAREWELL.
223
"'Liza Ann and me has eno', praised be His
name," said Barnaby, “and I wish you long life
and luck to spend your fortune, boys."
When boats at Guayaquil brought off Tom's
treasures of natural history, and brought off at
the same time his old friend Samaro to see Uncle
Robert, the latter was indeed a proud and happy
man. And his parting with his quondam guide
was quite affecting.
"My boy Tom may see you again, Samaro,” he
said, "he is a rover born; but I never shall till
we meet up bye. Farewell!”
"A dios, my good señor.
A dios."
These were Samaro's last words as he went
slowly over the side.
It was many months after this ere the good
ship Caledonia was towed up the Clyde; but the
long voyage had been a very happy one, almost
idyllic indeed, and ere it was all ended 'Theena
had one evening under the silvery stars promised
Tom Talisker that she would take a longer voyage
with him the voyage through life.
They are living now at Craigielea; Tom's
parents still keep the fine old farm, but Tom
himself lives at Craigie Castle, and owns the
shootings. Black Tom, the cat, is also alive and
very living like. Uncle Robert has rooms at the
castle too. The place would not be complete
without Uncle Robert.


224
THE "SOUTHERN HOPE."
""
Bernard is still a bachelor and likely to be, but
he has bought a fine estate not far from Tom's
place.
Between them they own a very beautiful
yacht, with decks white as snow and sails like
sea-bird's wings; but only their most intimate
friends know the reason why she is named the
Southern Hope.
THE END.


Blackie & Son's
CATALOGUE OF BOOKS
FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
INCLUDING WORKS BY
G. A. Henty.
Prof. A. J. Church. S. Baring-Gould.
G. Manville Fenn.
George Mac Donald, LL.D.
Harry Collingwood.
G. Norway.
Dr. Gordon Stables.
Ascott R. Hope.
Rosa Mulholland.
John C. Hutcheson.
Sarah Doudney.
and other popular Authors.
F. Frankfort Moore.
Alice Corkran.
Mary C. Rowsell.


4
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BY G. A. HENTY.
"Among writers of stories of adventure for boys Mr. Henty stands in the very
first rank."-Academy.
The Lion of the North: A Tale of Gustavus Adolphus and
the Wars of Religion. By G. A. HENTY. With 12 page Pictures
by J. SCHÖNBERG. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
"As we might expect from Mr. Henty the tale is a clever and instructive piece
of history, and as boys may be trusted to read it conscientiously, they can hardly
fail to be profited as well as pleased."-The Times.
"A praiseworthy attempt to interest British youth in the great deeds of the
Scotch Brigade in the wars of Gustavus Adolphus. Mackay, Hepburn, and Munro
live again in Mr. Henty's pages, as those deserve to live whose disciplined bands
formed really the germ of the modern British army."-Athenæum.
The Young Carthaginian: A Story of the Times of
Hannibal. By G. A. HENTY. With 12 full-page Illustrations by
C. J. STANILAND, R.I. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
"The effect of an interesting story, well constructed and vividly told, is en-
hanced by the picturesque quality of the scenic background. From first to last
nothing stays the interest of the narrative. It bears us along as on a stream,
whose current varies in direction, but never loses its force."-Saturday Review.
"Ought to be popular with boys who are not too ill instructed to be affected
by a graphic picture of the days and deeds of Hannibal."—Athenæum.
With Wolfe in Canada: Or, The Winning of a Continent.
By G. A. HENTY. With 12 full-page Illustrations by GORDON
BROWNE. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
"A model of what a boys' story-book should be. Mr. Henty has a great power
of infusing into the dead facts of history new life, and as no pains are spared by
him to ensure accuracy in historic details, his books supply useful aids to study
as well as amusement."-School Guardian.
"It is not only a lesson in history as instructively as it is graphically told, but
also a deeply interesting and often thrilling tale of adventure and peril by flood
and field."-Illustrated London News.
With Clive in India: Or, The Beginnings of an Empire.
By G. A. HENTY. With 12 full-page Illustrations by GORDON
BROWNE. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
"In this book Mr. Henty has contrived to exceed himself in stirring adventures
and thrilling situations. The pictures add greatly to the interest of the book.
Saturday Review.
"Among writers of stories of adventure for boys Mr. Henty stands in the very
first rank. Those who know something about India will be the most ready to
thank Mr. Henty for giving them this instructive volume to place in the hands
of their children."-Academy.
True to the Old Flag: A Tale of the American War of
Independence. By G. A. HENTY. With 12 full-page Illustrations
by GORDON BROWNE. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
"Does justice to the pluck and determination of the British soldiers. The son
of an American loyalist, who remains true to our flag, falls among the hostile red-
skins in that very Huron country which has been endeared to us by the exploits
of Hawkeye and Chingachgook."-The Times.
"Mr. Henty's extensive personal experience of adventures and moving incidents
by flood and field, combined with a gift of picturesque narrative, make his books
always welcome visitors in the home circle."-Daily News.


BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
5
BY G. A. HENTY.
"Mr. Henty is one of our most successful writers of historical tales."-Scotsman.
In Freedom's Cause: A Story of Wallace and Bruce. By
G. A. HENTY. With 12 full-page Illustrations by GORDON BROWNE.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
"Mr. Henty has broken new ground as an historical novelist. His tale of the
days of Wallace and Bruce is full of stirring action, and will commend itself to
boys."-Athenæum.
"Scarcely anywhere have we seen in prose a more lucid and spirit-stirring
description of Bannockburn than the one with which the author fittingly closes
his volume."-Dumfries Standard.
Through the Fray: A Story of the Luddite Riots. By
G. A. HENTY. With 12 full-page Illustrations by H. M. PAGET.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
"Mr. Henty inspires a love and admiration for straightforwardness, truth, and
courage. This is one of the best of the many good books Mr. Henty has produced,
and deserves to be classed with his Facing Death."-Standard.
"The interest of the story never flags. Were we to propose a competition for
the best list of novel writers for boys we have little doubt that Mr. Henty's name
would stand first."—Journal of Education.
Captain Bayley's Heir: A Tale of the Gold Fields of Cali-
fornia. By G. A. HENTY. With 12 full-page Illustrations by
H. M. PAGET. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
"A Westminster boy who makes his way in the world by hard work, good
temper, and unfailing courage. The descriptions given of life are just what a
healthy intelligent lad should delight in."-St. James's Gazette.
"The portraits of Captain Bayley, and the head-master of Westminster school,
are admirably drawn; and the adventures in California are told with that vigour
which is peculiar to Mr. Henty."-The Academy.
BY GEORGE MACDONALD.
A Rough Shaking.
By GEORGE MAC DONALD, LL.D.,
author of "Robert Falconer," &c. With 12 full-page Illustrations
by W. PARKINSON. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
Clare, the hero of the story, is a boy whose mother is killed at his side
by the fall of a church during an earthquake. The kindly clergyman and
his wife, who adopt him, die while he is still very young, and he is thrown
upon the world a second time. The narrative of his wanderings is full of
interest and novelty, the boy's unswerving honesty and his passion for
children and animals leading him into all sorts of adventures. He works
on a farm, supports a baby in an old deserted house, finds employment in
a menagerie, is taken into service by an old lady, becomes a bank clerk, is
kidnapped, and ultimately discovers his father on board the ship to which
he has been conveyed. The story will certainly rank amongst the best
of Dr. Mac Donald's books for boys.


6
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.
"Mr. Fenn is in the front rank of writers of stories for boys."-Liverpool
Mercury.
Quicksilver: Or, A Boy with no Skid to his Wheel. By
GEORGE MANVILLE FENN. With 10 full-page Illustrations by
FRANK DADD. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
"Quicksilver is little short of an inspiration. In it that prince of story-writers
for boys-George Manville Fenn-has surpassed himself. It is an ideal book for
a boy's library."-Practical Teacher.
"The story is capitally told, it abounds in graphic and well-described scenes,
and it has an excellent and manly tone throughout."-The Guardian.
"This is one of Mr. Fenn's happiest efforts, and deserves to be read and re-read
by every school-boy in the land. We are not exaggerating when we say that
Quicksilver has nothing to equal it this season."-Teachers' Ăid.
Dick o' the Fens: A Romance of the Great East Swamp. By
G. MANVILLE FENN. With 12 full-page Illustrations by FRANK
DADD. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
"We conscientiously believe that boys will find it capital reading. It is full
of incident and mystery, and the mystery is kept up to the last moment. It is
rich in effective local colouring; and it has a historical interest."-Times.
"We have not of late come across a historical fiction, whether intended for
boys or for men, which deserves to be so heartily and unreservedly praised as
regards plot, incidents, and spirit as Dick o' the Fens. It is its author's master-
piece as yet."-Spectator.
Devon Boys: A Tale of the North Shore. By G. MANVILLE
FENN. With 12 full-page Illustrations by GORDON BROWNE.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
"An admirable story, as remarkable for the individuality of its young heroes
as for the excellent descriptions of coast scenery and life in North Devon. It is
one of the best books we have seen this season."-Athenæum.
"We do not know that Mr. Fenn has ever reached a higher level than he has
in Devon Boys. It must be put in the very front rank of Christmas books."-
Spectator.
Brownsmith's Boy: A Romance in a Garden. By G. Man-
VILLE FENN. With 12 full-page Illustrations by GORDON BROWNE.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
"Mr. Fenn's books are among the best, if not altogether the best, of the stories
for boys. Mr. Fenn is at his best in Brownsmith's Boy."-Pictorial World.
"Brownsmith's Boy must rank among the few undeniably good boys' books.
He will be a very dull boy indeed who lays it down without wishing that it had
gone on for at least 100 pages more."-North British Mail.
In the King's Name: Or, The Cruise of the Kestrel. By
G. MANVILLE FENN. Illustrated by 12 full-page Pictures by
GORDON BROWNE. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
"A capital boys' story, full of incident and adventure, and told in the lively
style in which Mr. Fenn is such an adept."-Globe.
"The best of all Mr. Fenn's productions in this field. It has the great quality
of always 'moving on,' adventure following adventure in constant succession."—
Daily News.


BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
7
BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.
"Our boys know Mr. Fenn well, his stories having won for him a foremost place
in their estimation."-Pall Mall Gazette.
Bunyip Land: The Story of a Wild Journey in New Guinea.
By G. MANVILLE FENN. With 12 full-page Illustrations by
GORDON BROWNE. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
"One of the best tales of adventure produced by any living writer."-Daily
Chronicle.
"Mr. Fenn deserves the thanks of everybody for Bunyip Land, and we may ven-
ture to promise that a quiet week may be reckoned on whilst the youngsters have
such fascinating literature provided for their evenings' amusement."-Spectator.
The Golden Magnet: A Tale of the Land of the Incas. By
G. MANVILLE FENN. Illustrated by 12 full-page Pictures by GOR-
DON BROWNE. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 68.
"This is, we think, the best boys' book Mr. Fenn has produced.
illustrations are perfect in their way."-Globe.
The
"There could be no more welcome present for a boy. There is not a dull page
in the book, and many will be read with breathless interest. "The Golden Mag-
net' is, of course, the same one that attracted Raleigh and the heroes of West-
ward Ho!"-Journal of Education.
The Log of the "Flying Fish:" A Story of Aerial and
Submarine Peril and Adventure. By HARRY COLLINGWOOD. With
12 full-page Illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. Crown 8vo, cloth
elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
"The Flying Fish actually surpasses all Jules Verne's creations; with incred-
ible speed she flies through the air, skims over the surface of the water, and darts
along the ocean bed. We strongly recommend our school-boy friends to possess
themselves of her log."-Athenæum.
Under False Colours. By SARAH DOUDNEY. With 12 full-
page Illustrations by G. G. KILBURNE. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant,
olivine edges, 6s.
"This is a charming story, abounding in delicate touches of sentiment and
pathos. Its plot is skilfully contrived. It will be read with a warm interest by
every girl who takes it up."-Scotsman.
"Sarah Doudney has no superior as a writer of high-toned stories-pure in
style, original in conception, and with skilfully wrought-out plots; but we have
seen nothing from this lady's pen equal in dramatic energy to her latest work-
Under False Colours."-Christian Leader.
Robinson Crusoe. By DANIEL DEFOE. Illustrated by 100
Pictures by Gordon Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 6s.
"One of the best issues, if not absolutely the best, of Defoe's work which has
ever appeared."-The Standard.
"The best edition I have come across for years. If you know a boy who has
not a 'Robinson Crusoe,' just glance at any one of these hundred illustrations,
and you will go no further afield in search of a present for him."-Truth.


8
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
NEW EDITION OF THE UNIVERSE.
The Universe: Or, The Infinitely Great and the Infinitely Little.
A Sketch of Contrasts in Creation, and Marvels revealed and
explained by Natural Science. By F. A. POUCHET, M.D. With
272 Engravings on wood, of which 55 are full-page size, and a
Coloured Frontispiece. Tenth Edition, medium 8vo, cloth elegant,
gilt edges, 7s. 6d.; also morocco antique, 16s.
"We can honestly commend Professor Pouchet's book, which is admirably, as
it is copiously illustrated."-The Times.
"This book is as interesting as the most exciting romance, and a great deal
more likely to be remembered to good purpose."-Standard.
"Scarcely any book in French or in English is so likely to stimulate in the
young an interest in the physical phenomena."-Fortnightly Review.
BY S. BARING-GOULD.
Grettir the Outlaw: A Story of Iceland. By S. BARING-
GOULD, author of "John Herring," "Mehalah," &c. With 10 full-
page Illustrations by M. ZENO DIEMER, and a Coloured Map.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
"A foremost place in the boys' fiction of the season must be given to Grettir
the Outlaw."-Globe.
"Is the boys' book of its year. That is, of course, as much as to say that it
will do for men grown as well as juniors. It is told in simple, straightforward
English, as all stories should be, and it has a freshness, a freedom, a sense of sun
and wind and the open air, which make it irresistible."-Scots Observer.
BY PROFESSOR A. J. CHURCH.
Two Thousand Years Ago: Or, The Adventures of a Roman
Boy. By Professor A. J. CHURCH. With 12 full-page Illustrations
by ADRIEN MARIE. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 6s.
"Adventures well worth the telling. The book is extremely entertaining as
well as useful, and there is a wonderful freshness in the Roman scenes and
characters."-The Times.
"We know of no book which will do more to make the Romans of that day live
again for the English reader."-Guardian.
BY ROSA MULHOLLAND.
Giannetta: A Girl's Story of Herself. By ROSA MULHOLLAND.
With 8 full-page Illustrations by LOCKHART BOGLE. Crown 8vo,
cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"Giannetta is a true heroine-warm-hearted, self-sacrificing, and, as all good
women nowadays are, largely touched with the enthusiasm of humanity. One
of the most attractive gift-books of the season."-The Academy.
"No better book could be selected for a young girl's reading, as its object is
evidently to hold up a mirror, in which are seen some of the brightest and noblest
traits in the female character."--Schoolmistress.


BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
9
BY G. A. HENTY.
"The brightest of all the living writers whose office it is to enchant the boys."
--Christian Leader.
Maori and Settler: A Story of the New Zealand War. By
With 8 full-page Illustrations by ALFRED PEARSE,
G. A. HENTY.
and a Map. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
The Renshaws lose their property by a bank failure and emigrate to
New Zealand during the period of the war with the natives. Wilfrid
Renshaw, a strong, self-reliant, courageous lad, is the main-stay of the
household, his father being a dreamer whose archæological researches have
somewhat weakened his hold upon the present and the practical. Even
Wilfrid, however, would have succeeded indifferently, but for the assis-
tance of his older friend, Mr. Atherton, a botanist and naturalist, whose
herculean strength and unfailing nerve and humour make him perhaps the
central figure of the story. During the eventful voyage out, and in the
subsequent adventures among the Maoris, there are many breathless
moments in which the odds seem hopelessly against the party, but they
succeed in the end in establishing themselves happily in one of the pleasant-
est of the New Zealand valleys.
One of the 28th: A Tale of Waterloo. By G. A. HENTY.
With 8 full-page Illustrations by W. H. OVEREND, and 2 Maps.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"Written with Homeric vigour and heroic inspiration. It is graphic, pictur-
esque, and dramatically effective
shows us Mr. Henty at his best and
brightest. The adventures will hold a boy of a winter's night enthralled as he
rushes through them with breathless interest 'from cover to cover." "—Observer.
"Contains one of the best descriptions of the various battles which raged round
Waterloo which it has ever been our fate to read."-Daily Telegraph.
The Cat of Bubastes: A Story of Ancient Egypt. By
G. A. HENTY. With 8 full-page Illustrations by J. R. WEGUELIN.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"The story is highly enjoyable. We have pictures of Egyptian domestic life, of
sport, of religious ceremonial, and of other things which may still be seen vividly
portrayed by the brush of Egyptian artists."-The Spectator.
"The story, from the critical moment of the killing of the sacred cat to the
perilous exodus into Asia with which it closes, is very skilfully constructed and
full of exciting adventures. It is admirably illustrated."--Saturday Review.
The Dragon and the Raven: Or, The Days of King
Alfred. By G. A. HENTY. With 8 page Illustrations by C. J.
STANILAND, R.I. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"We know of no popular book in which the stirring incidents of Alfred's reign
are made accessible to young readers as they are here."-Scotsman.
"A story that may justly be styled remarkable. Boys, in reading it, will be
surprised to find how Alfred persevered, through years of bloodshed and times
of peace, to rescue his people from the thraldom of the Danes. We hope the
book will soon be widely known in all our schools."-Schoolmaster.


10
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BY G. A. HENTY.
"Mr. Henty is the king of story-tellers for boys."-Sword and Trowel.
St. George for England: A Tale of Cressy and Poitiers.
By G. A. HENTY. With 8 full-page Illustrations by GORDON
BROWNE. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"Mr. Henty's historical novels for boys bid fair to supplement, on their behalf,
the historical labours of Sir Walter Scott in the land of fiction."-Standard.
"A story of very great interest for boys. In his own forcible style the author
has endeavoured to show that determination and enthusiasm can accomplish mar-
vellous results; and that courage is generally accompanied by magnanimity and
gentleness."-Pall Mall Gazette.
The Bravest of the Brave: With Peterborough in Spain.
By G. A. HENTY. With 8 full-page Pictures by H. M. Paget.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"Mr. Henty never loses sight of the moral purpose of his work-to enforce the
doctrine of courage and truth, mercy and lovingkindness, as indispensable to the
making of an English gentleman. British lads will read The Bravest of the
Brave with pleasure and profit; of that we are quite sure."-Daily Telegraph.
For Name and Fame: Or, Through Afghan Passes. By
G. A. HENTY. With 8 full-page Illustrations by GORDON BROWNE.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 58.
"The best feature of the book, apart from its scenes of adventure, is its honest
effort to do justice to the patriotism of the Afghan people."-Daily News.
"Not only a rousing story, replete with all the varied forms of excitement of a
campaign, but, what is still more useful, an account of a territory and its inhabi-
tants which must for a long time possess a supreme interest for Englishmen, as
being the key to our Indian Empire."-Glasgow Herald.
In the Reign of Terror: The Adventures of a Westminster
Boy. By G. A. HENTY. With 8 full-page Illustrations by J.
SCHÖNBERG. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 58.
"Harry Sandwith, the Westminster boy, may fairly be said to beat Mr. Henty's
record. His adventures will delight boys by the audacity and peril they depict.
The story is one of Mr. Henty's best."-Saturday Review.
Orange and Green: A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick.
By G. A. HENTY. With 8 full-page Illustrations by GORDON
BROWNE. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"An extremely spirited story, based on the struggle in Ireland, rendered
memorable by the defence of 'Derry and the siege of Limerick."-Sat. Review.
"The narrative is free from the vice of prejudice, and ripples with life as
vivacious as if what is being described were really passing before the eye.
Should be in the hands of every young student of Irish history."-Belfast News.
By Sheer Pluck: A Tale of the Ashanti War. By G. A.
HENTY. With 8 full-page Pictures by GORDON BROWNE. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"By Sheer Pluck will be eagerly read. The author's personal knowledge of the
west coast has been turned to good advantage."-Athenæum.
"Morally, the book is everything that could be desired, setting before the boys
a bright and bracing ideal of the English gentleman."-Christian Leader.


BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BY G. A. HENTY.
11
"Mr. G. A. Henty's fame as a writer of boys' stories is deserved and secure."—
Cork Herald.
.
A Final Reckoning: A Tale of Bush Life in Australia.
By G. A. HENTY. With 8 full-page Illustrations by W. B.
WOLLEN. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"Exhibits Mr. Henty's talent as a story-teller at his best.
The drawings
possess the uncommon merit of really illustrating the text."-Saturday Review.
"All boys will read this story with eager and unflagging interest. The episodes
are in Mr. Henty's very best vein-graphic, exciting, realistic; and, as in all Mr.
Henty's books, the tendency is to the formation of an honourable, manly, and
even heroic character."-Birmingham Post.
Facing Death: Or, The Hero of the Vaughan Pit. A Tale of
the Coal Mines. By G. A. HENTY. With 8 page Pictures by
GORDON Browne. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"If any father, godfather, clergyman, or schoolmaster is on the look-out for a
good book to give as a present to a boy who is worth his salt, this is the book we
would recommend."-Standard.
"The hero starts life as a 'gate-boy, and, after years of hard work, makes
a fortune and becomes a famous mining expert. The descriptions of pit life are
extremely graphic. A thoroughly good book."-Pall Mall Gazette.
BY F. FRANKFORT MOORE.
Highways and High Seas: Cyril Harley's Adventures on
both. By F. FRANKFORT MOORE. With 8 full-page Illustrations
by ALFRED PEARSE. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"This is one of the best stories Mr. Moore has written, perhaps the very best.
The exciting adventures among highwaymen and privateers are sure to attract
boys."-Spectator.
"It is pleasant to come across such honest work as F. Frankfort Moore's High-
ways and High Seas, especially as he breathes a vein of genuine humour, his
Captain Chink being a real achievement in characterization." '-Scots Observer.
Under Hatches: Or, Ned Woodthorpe's Adventures. By F.
FRANKFORT MOORE. With 8 full-page Illustrations by A. FORES-
TIER. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"Mr. Moore has never shown himself so thoroughly qualified to write books
for boys as he has done in Under Hatches."-The Academy.
"The story as a story is one that will just suit boys all the world over. The
characters are well drawn and consistent; Patsy, the Irish steward, will be found
especially amusing."-Schoolmaster.
Perseverance Island: Or, The Robinson Crusoe of the 19th
Century. By DOUGLAS FRAZAR. With 12 full-page Illustrations.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"This second Robinson Crusoe is certainly a marvellous man. His determi-
nation to overcome all difficulties, and his subsequent success, should alone make
this a capital book for boys. It is altogether a worthy successor to the ancient
Robinson Crusoe."-Glasgow Herald.


12
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
·
BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.
"No one can find his way to the hearts of lads more readily than Mr. Fenn.”—
Nottingham Guardian.
Yussuf the Guide: Being the Strange Story of Travels in
Asia Minor. By G. MANVILLE FENN. With 8 page Illustrations
by J. SCHÖNBERG. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"The narrative will take its readers into scenes that will have great novelty
and attraction for them, and the experiences with the brigands will be especially
delightful to boys."-Scotsman.
Menhardoc: A Story of Cornish Nets and Mines.
By G.
MANVILLE FENN. With 8 full-page Illustrations by C. J. STANI-
LAND. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"They are real living boys, with their virtues and faults. The Cornish fisher-
men are drawn from life, they are racy of the soil, salt with the sea-water, and
they stand out from the pages in their jerseys and sea-boots all sprinkled with
silvery pilchard scales."-Spectator.
Mother Carey's Chicken: Her Voyage to the Unknown
Isle. By G. MANVILLE FENN. With 8 full-page Illustrations by
A. FORESTIER. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"Jules Verne himself never constructed a more marvellous tale. For anything
to match his realistic touch we must go to Daniel Defoe."-Christian Leader.
"When we get to the Unknown Isle,' the story becomes exciting. Mr. Fenn
keeps his readers in a suspense that is not intermitted for a moment, and the
dénouement is a surprise which is as probable as it is startling."-Spectator.
Patience Wins: Or, War in the Works. By G. MANVILLE
FENN. With 8 full-page Illustrations by GORDON BROWNE.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"Mr. Fenn is at his best in Patience Wins. It is sure to prove acceptable to
youthful readers, and will give a good idea of that which was the real state of
one of our largest manufacturing towns not many years ago."-Guardian.
Nat the Naturalist: A Boy's Adventures in the Eastern
Seas. By G. MANVILLE FENN. With 8 full-page Pictures. Crown
8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"Among the best of the many good books for boys that have come out this
season. "-Times.
"This sort of book encourages independence of character, develops resource,
and teaches a boy to keep his eyes open."-Saturday Review.
Gulliver's Travels.
66
by GORDON BROWNE.
Illustrated by more than 100 Pictures
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
By help of the admirable illustrations, and a little judicious skipping, it has
enchanted a family party of ages varying from six to sixty. Which of the other
Christmas books could stand this test?"-Journal of Education.
"Mr. Gordon Browne is, to my thinking, incomparably the most artistic,
spirited, and brilliant of our illustrators of books for boys, and one of the most
humorous also, as his illustrations of 'Gulliver' amply testify."-Truth.


BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
13
BY DR. GORDON STABLES.
'Twixt School and College: A Tale of Self-reliance. By
GORDON STABLES, C.M., M.D., R.N. With 8 full-page Illustrations
by W. PARKINSON. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
A story, the attractiveness of which lies less in the narration of startling
adventures than in the incidents of home life which fill up the interval
between the school life and college life of Fred Hallam. Dr. Gordon
Stables' interest in natural history and domestic pets is well known, and
his clever animal pictures, like that of the eccentric cat in The Hermit
Hunter of the Wilds, have always added in no small degree to the charm of
his works. The hero is presented by his father with an outlying cottage
and garden on the farm, and the gift is turned to pleasant account as a
place of residence for a whole menagerie of pets dear to the heart of most
healthy-minded boys.
BY HARRY COLLINGWOOD.
The Pirate Island: A Story of the South Pacific.
By
HARRY COLLINGWOOD. With 8 full-page Pictures by C. J. STANI-.
LAND and J. R. WELLS. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 58.
"A capital story of the sea; indeed in our opinion the author is superior in some
respects as a marine novelist to the better known Mr. Clarke Russell.”—The Times.
"Told in the most vivid and graphic language. It would be difficult to find a
more thoroughly delightful gift-book."-Guardian.
The Missing Merchantman. By HARRY COLLINGWOOD.
With 8 full-page Illustrations by W. H. OVEREND. Crown 8vo,
cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"Mr. Collingwood is facile princeps as a teller of sea stories for boys, and the
present is one of the best productions of his pen."-Standard.
"This is one of the author's best sea stories. The hero is as heroic as any boy
could desire, and the ending is extremely happy."-British Weekly.
The Rover's Secret: A Tale of the Pirate Cays and Lagoons
of Cuba. By HARRY COLLINGWOOD. With 8 full-page Illustra-
tions by W. C. SYMONS. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"The Rover's Secret is by far the best sea story we have read for years, and is
certain to give unalloyed pleasure to boys. The illustrations are fresh and
vigorous."-Saturday Review.
The Congo Rovers: A Story of the Slave Squadron. By
HARRY COLLINGWOOD. With 8 full-page Illustrations by J.
SCHÖNBERG. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 58.
"No better sea story has lately been written than the Congo Rovers. It is as
original as any boy could desire."-Morning Post.


14
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BY GEORGE MACDONALD.
At the Back of the North Wind.
By GEORGE MAC
DONALD, LL.D. With 75 Illustrations by ARTHUR HUGHES.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"In At the Back of the North Wind we stand with one foot in fairyland and
one on common earth. The story is thoroughly original, full of fancy and pathos,
and underlaid with earnest but not too obtrusive teaching."—The Times.
Ranald Bannerman's Boyhood. By GEORGE MACDONALD,
LL.D. With 36 Illustrations by ARTHUR HUGHES. Crown 8vo,
cloth elegant, olivine edges, 58.
"The sympathy with boy-nature in Ranald Bannerman's Boyhood is perfect.
It is a beautiful picture of childhood, teaching by its impressions and suggestions
all noble things.”—British Quarterly Review.
The Princess and the Goblin. By GEORGE MACDONALD,
LL.D. With 30 Illustrations by ARTHUR HUGHES, and 2 full-
page Pictures by H. PETHERICK. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
"Little of what is written for children has the lightness of touch and play of
fancy which are characteristic of George Mac Donald's fairy tales. Mr. Arthur
Hughes's illustrations are all that illustrations should be."-Manchester Guardian.
"A model of what a child's book ought to be-interesting, instructive, and
poetical. We cordially recommend it as one of the very best gift-books we have
yet come across."-Elgin Courant.
The Princess and Curdie.
By GEORGE MAC DONALD,
LL.D. With 8 full-page Illustrations by JAMES ALLEN. Crown
8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
"There is the finest and rarest genius in this brilliant story. Upgrown people
would do wisely occasionally to lay aside their newspapers and magazines to
spend an hour with Curdie and the Princess."-Sheffield Independent.
BY ASCOTT R. HOPE.
The Seven Wise Scholars. By AscoTT R. HOPE. With
nearly One Hundred Illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. Square
8vo, cloth elegant, gilt edges, 58.
"As full of fun as a volume of Punch; with illustrations, more laughter-
provoking than most we have seen since Leech died."-Sheffield Independent.
"A capital story, full of fun and happy comic fancies. The tale would put the
sourest-tempered boy into a good humour, and to an imaginative child would be
a source of keen delight."-Scotsman.
The Wigwam and the War-path: Stories of the Red
Indians. By ASCOTT R. HOPE. With 8 full-page Pictures by
GORDON BROWNE. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 5s.
"All the stories are told well, in simple spirited language and with a fulness of
letail that makes them instructive as well as interesting."—Journal of Education.


BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BY G. NORWAY.
15
Hussein the Hostage: Or, A Boy's Adventures in Persia.
By G. NORWAY. With 8 full-page Illustrations by JOHN SCHÖN-
BERG. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
The narrative of the adventures of the young prince Hussein and his
faithful follower Askar in their endeavour to free their oppressed tribe
from the Persian yoke. Hussein is for some time held captive by the
Persians, and Askar, after storing a secret cavern with provisions, sets off
to rescue him. He is himself kidnapped, however, and sold to a travelling
showman. Askar at length rejoins Hussein, who has escaped in disguise,
gathered about him some of his old adherents, and is holding the cavern
against the Persian forces. These are happily dispersed at the moment
when success seems assured to them. The book has the same originality
of conception and treatment which characterized the author's previous
story-The Loss of John Humble.
The Loss of John Humble: What Led to It, and what
Came of It. By G. NORWAY. With 8 full-page Illustrations by
JOHN SCHÖNBERG. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"This story will place the author at once in the front rank. It is full of life
and adventure. He is equally at home in his descriptions of life in Sweden and
in the more stirring passages of wreck and disaster, and the interest of the story
is sustained without a break from first to last."-Standard.
"Since the days when we read Robinson Crusoe no book of its kind has
delighted us more. It is just the gift-book for boys."-Schoolmaster.
66
'Among books of stirring adventure we can highly commend The Loss of John
Humble."-Guardian.
BY SARAH TYTLER.
Girl Neighbours: Or, The Old Fashion and the New. By
SARAH TYTLER. With 8 full-page Illustrations by C. T. GARLAND.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"One of the most effective and quietly humorous of Miss Sarah Tytler's stories.
Very healthy, very agreeable, and very well written."-Spectator.
BY G. A. HENTY.
A Chapter of Adventures: Or, Through the Bombard-
ment of Alexandria. By G. A. HENTY. With 6 full-page Illus-
trations by W. H. OVEREND. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
An east-coast fishing lad, by an act of heroism, secures the interest of
a ship-owner, who places him as an apprentice on board one of his ships.
In company with two of his fellow-apprentices he is left behind, at Alex-
andria, in the hands of the revolted Egyptian troops, and is present
through the bombardment and the scenes of riot and bloodshed which
accompanied it. They ultimately effect their escape, and in the subsequent
terrible voyage their ship is wrecked, and only the hero and a friend are
saved. The yarns of an old seaman on board add to the interest of the
exciting events of the narrative itself.


14
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BY GEORGE MACDONALD.
At the Back of the North Wind.
By GEORGE MAC
DONALD, LL.D. With 75 Illustrations by ARTHUR HUGHES.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"In At the Back of the North Wind we stand with one foot in fairyland and
one on common earth. The story is thoroughly original, full of fancy and pathos,
and underlaid with earnest but not too obtrusive teaching."-The Times.
Ranald Bannerman's Boyhood. By GEORGE MACDONALD,
LL.D. With 36 Illustrations by ARTHUR HUGHES.
cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
Crown 8vo,
"The sympathy with boy-nature in Ranald Bannerman's Boyhood is perfect.
It is a beautiful picture of childhood, teaching by its impressions and suggestions
all noble things.”—British Quarterly Review.
The Princess and the Goblin. By GEORGE MACDONALD,
LL.D. With 30 Illustrations by ARTHUR HUGHES, and 2 full-
page Pictures by H. PETHERICK. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
"Little of what is written for children has the lightness of touch and play of
fancy which are characteristic of George Mac Donald's fairy tales. Mr. Arthur
Hughes's illustrations are all that illustrations should be."-Manchester Guardian.
"A model of what a child's book ought to be-interesting, instructive, and
poetical. We cordially recommend it as one of the very best gift-books we have
yet come across."-Elgin Courant.
The Princess and Curdie.
By GEORGE MAC DONALD,
LL.D. With 8 full-page Illustrations by JAMES ALLEN.
8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
Crown
"There is the finest and rarest genius in this brilliant story. Upgrown people
would do wisely occasionally to lay aside their newspapers and magazines to
spend an hour with Curdie and the Princess."-Sheffield Independent.
BY ASCOTT R. HOPE.
The Seven Wise Scholars. By ASCOTT R. HOPE. With
nearly One Hundred Illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. Square
8vo, cloth elegant, gilt edges, 58.
"As full of fun as a volume of Punch; with illustrations, more laughter-
provoking than most we have seen since Leech died."-Sheffield Independent.
"A capital story, full of fun and happy comic fancies. The tale would put the
sourest-tempered boy into a good humour, and to an imaginative child would be
a source of keen delight."-Scotsman.
The Wigwam and the War-path: Stories of the Red
Indians. By ASCOTT R. HOPE. With 8 full-page Pictures by
GORDON BROWNE. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 5s.
"All the stories are told well, in simple spirited language and with a fulness of
letail that makes them instructive as well as interesting."-Journal of Education.


BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BY G. NORWAY.
15
Hussein the Hostage: Or, A Boy's Adventures in Persia.
By G. NORWAY. With 8 full-page Illustrations by JOHN SCHÖN-
BERG. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
The narrative of the adventures of the young prince Hussein and his
faithful follower Askar in their endeavour to free their oppressed tribe
from the Persian yoke. Hussein is for some time held captive by the
Persians, and Askar, after storing a secret cavern with provisions, sets off
to rescue him. He is himself kidnapped, however, and sold to a travelling
showman. Askar at length rejoins Hussein, who has escaped in disguise,
gathered about him some of his old adherents, and is holding the cavern
against the Persian forces. These are happily dispersed at the moment
when success seems assured to them. The book has the same originality
of conception and treatment which characterized the author's previous
story-The Loss of John Humble.
The Loss of John Humble: What Led to It, and what
Came of It. By G. NORWAY. With 8 full-page Illustrations by
JOHN SCHÖNBERG. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"This story will place the author at once in the front rank. It is full of life
and adventure. He is equally at home in his descriptions of life in Sweden and
in the more stirring passages of wreck and disaster, and the interest of the story
is sustained without a break from first to last."-Standard.
"Since the days when we read Robinson Crusoe no book of its kind has
delighted us more. It is just the gift-book for boys."-Schoolmaster.
66
Among books of stirring adventure we can highly commena The Loss of John
Humble."-Guardian.
BY SARAH TYTLER.
Girl Neighbours: Or, The Old Fashion and the New. By
SARAH TYTLER. With 8 full-page Illustrations by C. T. GARLAND.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, 5s.
"One of the most effective and quietly humorous of Miss Sarah Tytler's stories.
Very healthy, very agreeable, and very well written."-Spectator.
BY G. A. HENTY.
A Chapter of Adventures: Or, Through the Bombard-
ment of Alexandria. By G. A. HENTY. With 6 full-page Illus-
trations by W. H. OVEREND. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
An east-coast fishing lad, by an act of heroism, secures the interest of
a ship-owner, who places him as an apprentice on board one of his ships.
In company with two of his fellow-apprentices he is left behind, at Alex-
andria, in the hands of the revolted Egyptian troops, and is present
through the bombardment and the scenes of riot and bloodshed which
accompanied it. They ultimately effect their escape, and in the subsequent
terrible voyage their ship is wrecked, and only the hero and a friend are
saved. The yarns of an old seaman on board add to the interest of the
exciting events of the narrative itself.


16
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BY JOHN C. HUTCHESON.
Afloat at Last: A Sailor Boy's Log of his Life at Sea. By
JOHN C. HUTCHESON. With 6 full-page Illustrations by W. H.
OVEREND. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
"As healthy and breezy a book as one could wish to put into the hands of
a boy."-Academy.
"A tale of seafaring life told with fire and enthusiasm, full of spirited incident
and well-drawn character."-Observer.
Picked up at Sea: Or, The Gold Miners of Minturne Creek.
By J C. HUTCHESON. With 6 full-page Pictures. Cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
"The author's success with this book is so marked that it may well encourage him
to further efforts. The description of mining life in the Far-west is true and accu-
rate."-Standard.
The White Squall: A Story of the Sargasso Sea. By JOHN
C. HUTCHESON. With 6 full-page Illustrations by JOHN SCHÖNBERG.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
"Few writers have made such rapid improvement in the course of a few years
as has the author of this capital story. Boys will find it difficult to lay
down the book till they have got to the end."-Standard.
"The sketches of tropical life are so good as sometimes to remind us of Tom
Cringle and the Cruise of the Midge."-Times.
The Wreck of the Nancy Bell: Or, Cast Away on Ker-
guelen Land. By JOHN C. HUTCHESON. Illustrated by 6 full-page
Pictures. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
"A full circumstantial narrative such as boys delight in. The ship so sadly destined
to wreck on Kerguelen Land is manned by a very lifelike party, passengers and
The life in the Antarctic Iceland is well treated."-Athenæum.
crew.
Sir Walter's Ward: A Tale of the Crusades.
By WILLIAM
EVERARD. With 6 fall-page Illustrations by WALTER PAGET.
Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
"This book will prove a very acceptable present either to boys or girls. Both
alike will take an interest in the career of Dodo, in spite of his unheroic name,
and follow him through his numerous and exciting adventures."-
s."—Academy.
Stories of Old Renown: Tales of Knights and Heroes.
By ASCOTT R. HOPE. With 100 Illustrations by GORDON BROWNE.
New Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
"A really fascinating book worthy of its telling title. There is, we venture to
say, not a dull page in the book, not a story which will not bear a second read-
ing."-Guardian.
Brother and Sister: Or, The Trials of the Moore Family.
By ELIZABETH J. LYSAGHT. With 6 full-page Illustrations.
Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
"A pretty story, and well told. The plot is cleverly constructed, and the moral
is excellent."-Athenaeum.


BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
17
BY MARY C. ROWSELL.
Thorndyke Manor: A Tale of Jacobite Times. By MARY
C. ROWSELL. With 6 full-page Illustrations by L. LESLIE BROOKE.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
"It is a good story, with plenty of 'go' in it."-Times.
"Miss Rowsell has never written a more attractive book than Thorndyke
Manor."-Belfast News-Letter.
Traitor or Patriot? A Tale of the Rye-House Plot. By
MARY C. ROWSELL. With 6 full-page Pictures by C. O. MURRAY
and C. J. STANILAND, R.I. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
"Here the Rye-House Plot serves as the groundwork for a romantic love epi-
sode, whose true characters are lifelike beings, not dry sticks as in many histori-
cal tales."-Graphic.
Meg's Friend.
BY ALICE CORKRAN.
By ALICE CORKRAN.
With 6 full-page
Illustrations by ROBERT FOWLER. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
"Another of Miss Corkran's charming books for girls, narrated in that simple
and picturesque style which marks the authoress as one of the first amongst
writers for young people."-The Spectator.
Margery Merton's Girlhood. By ALICE CORKRAN. With
6 full-page Pictures by GORDON BROWNE. Cr. 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
"Another book for girls we can warmly commend. There is a delightful
piquancy in the experiences and trials of a young English girl who studies
painting in Paris."-Saturday Review.
Down the Snow Stairs: Or, From Good-night to Good-
morning. By ALICE CORKRAN. With 60 character Illustrations
by GORDON BROWNE. New Edition. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant,
olivine edges, 3s. 6d.
"A fascinating wonder-book for children."-Athenæum.
"A gem of the first water, bearing upon every page the mark of genius. It is
indeed a Little Pilgrim's Progress."-Christian Leader.
Silver Mill: A Tale of the Don Valley. By Mrs. R. H. READ.
With 6 full-page Illustrations by JOHN SCHÖNBERG. Crown 8vo,
cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
"A good girl's story-book. The plot is interesting, and the heroine, Ruth, a
lady by birth, though brought up in a humble station, well deserves the more
elevated position in which the end of the book leaves her."-Saturday Review.
Dora: Or, A Girl without a Home. By Mrs. R. H. READ. With
6 full-page Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
"It is no slight thing, in an age of rubbish, to get a story so pure and healthy
as this."-The Academy.
B


18
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BY CAROLINE AUSTIN.
Cousin Geoffrey and I. By CAROLINE AUSTIN. With 6
full-page Illustrations by W. PARKINSON.
elegant, 3s. 6d.
Crown 8vo, cloth
"Miss Austin's story is bright, clever, and well developed."-Saturday Review.
"A powerfully written and realistic story of girl life.
book is pure and good."-Practical Teacher.
The tone of the
Hugh Herbert's Inheritance. By CAROLINE AUSTIN.
With 6 full-page Illustrations by C. T. GARLAND. Crown 8vo,
cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
"Will please by its simplicity, its tenderness, and its healthy interesting
motive. It is admirably written."-Scotsman.
"Well and gracefully written, full of interest, and excellent in tone."-School
Guardian.
BY E. S. BROOKS.
Storied Holidays: A Cycle of Red-letter Days. By E. S.
BROOKS. With 12 full-page Illustrations by HOWARD PYLE.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
"It is a downright good book for a senior boy, and is eminently readable from
first to last."-Schoolmaster.
"Replete with interest from Chapter I. to Finis, and can be confidently recom-
mended as one of the gems of Messrs. Blackie's collection."-Teachers' Aid.
Chivalric Days: Stories of Courtesy and Courage in the
Olden Times. By E. S. BROOKS. With 20 Illustrations by
GORDON BROWNE and other Artists. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
"We have seldom come across a prettier collection of tales. These charming
stories of boys and girls of olden days are no mere fictitious or imaginary sketches,
but are real and actual records of their sayings and doings. The illustrations are
in Gordon Browne's happiest style."-Literary World.
Historic Boys: Their Endeavours, their Achievements, and
their Times. By E. S. BROOKS. With 12 full-page Illustrations by
R. B. BIRCH and JOHN SCHÖNBERG. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
"A wholesome book, manly in tone, its character sketches enlivened by brisk
dialogue and high-class illustrations; altogether one that should incite boys to
further acquaintance with those rulers of men whose careers are narrated. We
advise teachers to put it on their list of prizes."—Knowledge.
Dr. Jolliffe's Boys: A Tale of Weston School. By LEWIS
HOUGH. With 6 full-page Pictures. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
'Young people who appreciate Tom Brown's School-days will find this story a
worthy companion to that fascinating book. There is the same manliness of tone,
truthfulness of outline, avoidance of exaggeration and caricature, and healthy
morality as characterized the masterpiece of Mr. Hughes."-Newcastle Journal.


BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
19
Laugh and Learn: The Easiest Book of Nursery Lessons
and Nursery Games. By JENNETT HUMPHREYS. Profusely Illus-
trated. Square 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
"Laugh and Learn instructs and amuses; it is the very book for a wet day
in the nursery, for besides solid instruction, admirably given, it contains number-
less games and contrivances, with useful and amusing illustrations. The musical
drill is remarkably good."--Athenæum.
"One of the best books of the kind imaginable, full of practical teaching in
word and picture, and helping the little ones pleasantly along a right royal road
to learning."-Graphic.
"If you want a really good book for young children, get Laugh and Learn.”
-Truth.
"Every mother of children should have Laugh and Learn, and go through
with them the excellent course it contains."-Journal of Education.
The Search for the Talisman: A Story of Labrador.
By HENRY FRITH. With 6 full-page Illustrations by J. SCHÖNBERG.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
"Mr. Frith's volume will be among those most read and highest valued. The
adventures among seals, whales, and icebergs in Labrador will delight many a
young reader, and at the same time give him an opportunity to widen his know-
ledge of the Esquimaux, the heroes of many tales."-Pall Mall Gazette.
Self-Exiled: A Story of the High Seas and East Africa. By
J. A. STEUART. With 6 full-page Illustrations by J. SCHÖNBERG.
Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
"It is cram full of thrilling situations. The number of miraculous escapes
from death in all its shapes which the hero experiences in the course of a few
months must be sufficient to satisfy the most voracious appetite."-Schoolmaster.
Reefer and Rifleman: A Tale of the Two Services. By
J. PERCY-GROVES, late 27th Inniskillings. With 6 full-page
Illustrations by JOHN SCHÖNBERG. Crown 8vo, cloth elegant, 3s. 6d.
"A good, old-fashioned, amphibious story of our fighting with the Frenchmen in
the beginning of our century, with a fair sprinkling of fun and frolic.”—Times.
The Bubbling Teapot. A Wonder Story. By Mrs. L. W.
CHAMPNEY. With 12 full-page Pictures by Walter SatTERLEE.
Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
"Very literally a 'wonder story, and a wild and fanciful one. Nevertheless
it is made realistic enough, and there is a good deal of information to be gained
from it. The steam from the magic teapot bubbles up into a girl, and the little
girl, when the fancy takes her, can cry herself back into a teapot. Transformed
and enchanted she makes the tour of the globe."-The Times.
Life's Daily Ministry: A Story of Everyday Service for
Others. By Mrs. E. R. PITMAN. With 4 full-page Illustrations.
Crown 8vo, cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
"Shows exquisite touches of a master hand. She depicts in graphic outline
the characteristics of the beautiful and the good in life."-Christian Union.
My Governess Life: Or, Earning my Living. By Mrs. E.
R. PITMAN. With 4 full-page Illustrations. Cloth extra, 3s. 6d.
"Full of sound teaching and bright examples of character."—Sunday-school
Chronicle.


20
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BLACKIE'S HALF-CROWN SERIES.
Illustrated by eminent Artists. In crown 8vo, cloth elegant.
NEW VOLUMES.
The Secret of the Old House. A Story for Children.
By EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN.
Tim, a clever boy of romantic tendencies, and his sister Dinah go to stay
with their rich grandmother in the country, near an old house which has
the reputation of being haunted. They not only see the ghost, but serenade
it and make friends with it-the ghost proving to be an unhappy youth
who has been allowed to seclude himself in one wing of the mansion. The
two children succeed in effecting the restoration of the boy to health and
his reconciliation with his grandfather.
Hal Hungerford. By J. R. HUTCHINSON, B.A.
A boy sent out by an emigration society to a farmer in Canada is charged
with the committal of a serious crime. Seeing no hope of clearing himself,
he leaves his new home with a boy-companion, and they take up residence in
an old block-house about which mysterious stories are told. They succeed in
unravelling the mystery at no little cost, his companion dying of injuries
received in the burning block-house, and he himself escaping death by the
merest chance. The story is full of exciting incidents--a smuggler's cave
guarded by a skeleton, a pirate's treasure, and the like.
The Golden Weathercock. By JULIA GODDARD.
The Golden Weathercock on the church tower has in virtue of his position
the privilege of hearing about everything from everybody. From all
quarters dainty and interesting stories reach his ears, and the comments
and questions of the old gossip himself add piquancy to the interspersed
narratives.
The Hermit Hunter of the Wilds. By GORDON STABLES,
C.M., M.D., R.N.
"A boy's book par excellence."-Freeman's Journal.
"Pirates and pumas, mutiny and merriment, a castaway and a cat, furnish
the materials for a tale that will gladden the heart of many a bright boy.".
Methodist Recorder.
White Lilac: Or, The Queen of the May. By AMY WALTON.
"One of the most charming stories of the year."-Pall Mall Gazette.
"Every here and there we are reminded of Mrs. Tulliver and Sister Pullet in
the quaint dialogue of the story.
Every rural parish ought to add White
Lilac to its library."-Academy.
Miriam's Ambition: A Story for Children. By EVELYN
EVERETT-GREEN.
"A high-minded, simple story, such as Miss Everett-Green can tell so well."
Academy.
-
"Miss Green's children are real British boys and girls, not small men and
women. Babs is a charming little one."-Liverpool Mercury.


BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
21
HALF-CROWN
SERIES-Continued.
Little Lady Clare. By EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN
"Certainly one of the prettiest, reminding us in its quaintness and tender
pathos of Mrs. Ewing's delightful tales. This is quite one of the best stories Miss
Green's clever pen has yet given us."-Literary World.
The Eversley Secrets.
By EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN.
"Is one of the best children's stories of the year."--Academy.
"A clever and well-told story. Roy Eversley is a very touching picture of high
principle and unshrinking self-devotion in a good purpose."-Guardian.
The Brig "Audacious." BY ALAN COLE.
By
"This is a real boys' book. We have great pleasure in recommending it."-
English Teacher.
"Bright and vivacious in style, and fresh and wholesome as a breath of sea air
in tone."-Court Journal.
The Saucy May. By HENRY FRITH.
"The book is certainly both interesting and exciting."-Spectator.
"Mr. Frith gives a new picture of life on the ocean wave which will be acceptable
to all young people."-Sheffield Independent.
Jasper's Conquest. By ELIZABETH J. LYSAGHT.
"One of the best boys' books of the season. It is full of stirring adventure and
startling episodes, and yet conveys a splendid moral throughout."-Schoolmaster.
Sturdy and Strong: Or, How George Andrews made his
Way. By G. A. HENTY.
"The history of a hero of everyday life, whose love of truth, clothing_of
modesty, and innate pluck carry him, naturally, from poverty to affluence. He
stands as a good instance of chivalry in domestic life."-The Empire.
Gutta-Percha Willie, The Working Genius. By GEORGE
MAC DONALD, LL.D.
"Had we space we would fain quote page after page. All we have room to say
is, get it for your boys and girls to read for themselves, and if they can't do that
read it to them."-Practical Teacher.
The War of the Axe: Or, Adventures in South Africa. By
J. PERCY-GROVES.
"The story of their final escape from the Caffres is a marvellous bit of writing.
The story is well and brilliantly told, and the illustrations are especially
good and effective."-Literary World.
The Lads of Little Clayton: Stories of Village Boy Life.
By R. STEAD.
"A capital book for boys. They will learn from its pages what true boy cour-
age is. They will learn further to avoid all that is petty and mean if they read
the tales aright. They may be read to a class with great profit."-Schoolmaster.


22
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
HALF-CROWN SERIES-Continued.
Ten Boys who lived on the Road from Long Ago to Now.
By JANE ANDREWS.
With 20 Illustrations.
We
"The idea of this book is a very happy one, and is admirably carried out.
have followed the whole course of the work with exquisite pleasure. Teachers
should find it particularly interesting and suggestive."-Practical Teacher.
A Waif of the Sea: Or, The Lost Found. By KATE WOOD.
"Written with tenderness and grace, the story will appeal to mothers who
have felt the pain of being parted from their children, as powerfully as to the
hearts and sympathies of younger readers."-Morning Advertiser.
Winnie's Secret: A Story of Faith and Patience. By KATE
WOOD.
"One of the best story-books we have read. Girls will be charmed with the
tale, and delighted that everything turns out so well."-Schoolmaster.
Miss Willowburn's Offer. By SARAH Doudney.
"Patience Willowburn is one of Miss Doudney's best creations, and is the one
personality in the story which can be said to give it the character of a book not
for young ladies but for girls."-Spectator.
A Garland for Girls. By LOUISA M. ALCOTT.
"The Garland will delight our girls, and show them how to make their lives
fragrant with good deeds."-British Weekly.
"These little tales are the beau ideal of girls' stories."-Christian World.
Hetty Gray: Or, Nobody's Bairn. By ROSA MULHOLLAND.
"A charming story for young folks. Hetty is a delightful creature-piquant,
tender, and true-and her varying fortunes are perfectly realistic."—World.
Brothers in Arms: A Story of the Crusades.
FORD HARRISON.
By F. BAY-
"Full of striking incident, is very fairly illustrated, and may safely be chosen as
sure to prove interesting to young people of both sexes.' Guardian.
"
The Ball of Fortune: Or, Ned Somerset's Inheritance. By
CHARLES PEARCE.
"A capital story for boys. It is simply and brightly written. There is plenty
of incident, and the interest is sustained throughout." Journal of Education.
Miss Fenwick's Failures: Or, "Peggy Pepper-Pot." By
ESMÉ STUART.
"Esmé Stuart may be commended for producing a girl true to real life, who
will put no nonsense into young heads."-Graphic.
Gytha's Message: A Tale of Saxon England. By EMMA
LESLIE.
"This is a charmingly told story. It is the sort of book that all girls and some
boys like, and can only get good from."-Journal of Education.


BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
23
HALF-CROWN SERIES-Continued.
My Mistress the Queen: A Tale of the 17th Century. By
M. A. PAULL.
"The style is pure and graceful, the presentation of manners and character
has been well studied, and the story is full of interest."-Scotsman.
The Stories of Wasa and Menzikoff: The Deliverer of
Sweden, and the Favourite of Czar Peter.
"Both are stories worth telling more than once, and it is a happy thought to
have put them side by side. Plutarch himself has no more suggestive com-
parison."-Spectator.
Stories of the Sea in Former Days.
"Next to an original sea-tale of sustained interest come well-sketched collec-
tions of maritime peril and suffering which awaken the sympathies by the realism
of fact. Stories of the Sea are a very good specimen of the kind."-The Times.
Tales of Captivity and Exile.
"It would be difficult to place in the hands of young people a book which
combines interest and instruction in a higher degree."-Manchester Courier.
Famous Discoveries by Sea and Land.
་
"Such a volume may providentially stir up some youths by the divine fire
kindled by these great of old to lay open other lands, and show their vast
resources."-Perthshire Advertiser.
Stirring Events of History.
"The volume will fairly hold its place among those which make the smaller
ways of history pleasant and attractive. It is a gift-book in which the interest
will not be exhausted with one reading."-Guardian.
Adventures in Field, Flood, and Forest.
"One of the series of books for young people which Messrs. Blackie excel in
producing. The editor has beyond all question succeeded admirably. The pre-
sent book cannot fail to be read with interest and advantage."-Academy.
Jack o' Lanthorn: A Tale of Adventure. By HENRY FRITH.
"The narrative is crushed full of stirring incident, and is sure to be a prime
favourite with our boys, who will be assisted by it in mastering a sufficiently
exciting chapter in the history of England."-Christian Leader.
The Family Failing. By Darley Dale.
"At once an amusing and an interesting story, and a capital lesson on the
value of contentedness to young and old alike."-Aberdeen Journal.
The Joyous Story of Toto. By LAURA E. RICHARDS.
With 30 humorous and fanciful Illustrations by E. H. GARRETT.
"An excellent book for children who are old enough to appreciate a little
delicate humour. It should take its place beside Lewis Carroll's unique works,
and find a special place in the affections of boys and girls.”—Birmingham Gazette.


24
74
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BLACKIE'S TWO-SHILLING SERIES.
Illustrated by eminent Artists. In crown 8vo, cloth elegant.
NEW VOLUMES.
The Light Princess, and other Fairy Stories. By GEORGE
MAC DONALD. New Edition.
Nutbrown Roger and I: A Romance of the Highway.
By J. H. YOXALL.
The story of a boy who has been defrauded of his property. He is
assisted in his distress by a nobleman, who for various romantic reasons
has assumed the garb without adopting the practices of a highwayman.
After a series of exciting adventures the two are successful, not only in
rescuing the nobleman's betrothed from evil hands, but in bringing about
the restoration of the lad's property.
A Rash Promise: Or, Meg's Secret. By CECILIA SELBY
LOWNDES.
Frank Mitchell, a boy who has spent his early years in South America,
comes to England to be educated. Frank is expert in the use of the lasso,
and when one day a favourite dog is found nearly strangled, with the end
of the lasso round its neck, he is suspected of the deed and treated as
guilty. The truth becomes known to Meg, the rector's daughter, and she
is tortured by the sight of an injustice which she could remedy but for a
foolish promise of secrecy which she feels compelled to keep.
A Warrior King: The Story of a Boy's Adventures in
Africa. By J. EVELYN.
"The friendship formed between the African Prince and Adrian Englefield will
remind the reader of the old story of the 'wonderful love' which existed long ago
when Jonathan and David made a covenant."-Dundee Advertiser.
Sam Silvan's Sacrifice: The Story of Two Fatherless Boys.
By JESSE COLMAN.
"There is a spirit of gentleness, kindliness, and tenderness manifest in every
lesson, in every illustration, and we might say in every page of this little volume
which will make it an influence for good."-Christian Union.
Insect Ways on Summer Days in Garden, Forest, Field,
and Stream. By JENNETT HUMPHREYS. With 70 Illustrations.
"This book will prove not only instructive but delightful to every child whose
mind is beginning to inquire and reflect upon the wonders of nature. It is
capitally illustrated and very tastefully bound.”—Academy.
Susan. By AMY WALTON.
"A clever little story, written with some humour. The authoress shows a
great deal of insight into children's feelings and motives."-Pall Mall Gazette.


BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
25
25
66
TWO SHILLING SERIES-Continued.
"A Pair of Clogs:" and other Stories. By AMY Walton.
"Decidedly interesting, and unusually true to nature. For children between
nine and fourteen this book can be thoroughly commended."-Academy.
The Hawthorns.
By AMY WALTON.
"A remarkably vivid and clever study of child-life. At this species of work
Amy Walton has no superior."-Christian Leader.
Dorothy's Dilemma: A Tale of the Time of Charles I.
By CAROLINE AUSTIN.
"An exceptionally well-told story, and will be warmly welcomed by children.
The little heroine, Dorothy, is a charming creation."-Court Journal.
Marie's Home: Or, A Glimpse of the Past. By CAROLINE
AUSTIN.
"An exquisitely told story. The heroine is as fine a type of girlhood as one
could wish to set before our little British damsels of to-day."-Christian Leader.
Warner's Chase: Or, The Gentle Heart. By ANNIE S. SWAN.
"In Milly Warren, the heroine, who softens the hard heart of her rich uncle
and thus unwittingly restores the family fortunes, we have a fine ideal of real
womanly goodness."-Schoolmaster.
Aboard the "Atalanta:" The Story of a Truant. By
HENRY FRITH.
"The story is very interesting and the descriptions most graphic. We doubt
if any boy after reading it would be tempted to the great mistake of running
away from school under almost any pretext whatever."-Practical Teacher.
The Penang Pirate and THE LOST PINNACE. BY JOHN C.
HUTCHESON.
"A book which boys will thoroughly enjoy: rattling, adventurous, and romantic,
and the stories are thoroughly healthy in tone."-Aberdeen Journal.
Teddy: The Story of a "Little Pickle." By JOHN C. HUTCHESON.
"He is an amusing little fellow with a rich fund of animal spirits, and when at
length he goes to sea with Uncle Jack he speedily sobers down under the discip-
line of life."-Saturday Review.
Linda and the Boys. By CECILIA SELBY Lowndes.
"The book is essentially a child's book, and will be heartily appreciated by the
young folk."-The Academy.
Swiss Stories for Children. From the German of MADAM
JOHANNA SPYRI. By LUCY WHEELOCK.
"C
'Charming stories. They are rich in local colouring, and, what is better, in
genuine pathos."-The Times.
The Squire's Grandson: A Devonshire Story. By J. M.
CALLWELL.
"The lessons of courage, filial affection, and devotion to duty on the part of the
young hero cannot fail to favourably impress all young readers."-Schoolmaster.


26
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
TWO-SHILLING SERIES-Continued.
Magna Charta Stories: Or, Struggles for Freedom in the
Olden Time. Edited by ARTHUR GILMAN, A.M.
"A book of special excellence, which ought to be in the hands of all boys."—
Educational News.
The Wings of Courage;
AND THE CLOUD - SPINNER.
Translated from the French of GEORGE SAND, by Mrs. CORKRAN.
"Mrs. Corkran has earned our gratitude by translating into readable English these
two charming little stories."-Athenæum.
Chirp and Chatter: Or, LESSONS FROM FIELD and TREE.
By ALICE BANKS. With 54 Illustrations by GORDON BROWNE.
"We see the humbling influence of love on the haughty harvest-mouse, we are
touched by the sensibility of the tender-hearted ant, and may profit by the moral
of 'the disobedient maggot.' The drawings are spirited and funny."-The Times.
Four Little Mischiefs. By ROSA MULHOLLAND.
"Graphically written, and abounds in touches of genuine humour and innocent
fun."-Freeman. "A charming bright story about real children."-Watchman.
New Light through Old Windows. A Series of Stories
illustrating Fables of Æsop. By GREGSON Gow.
"The most delightfully-written little stories one can easily find in the literature
of the season. Well constructed and brightly told."-Glasgow Herald.
Little Tottie, and Two Other Stories. By THOMAS ARCHER.
"We can warmly commend all three stories; the book is a most alluring prize
for the younger ones."-Schoolmaster.
Naughty Miss Bunny: Her Tricks and Troubles. By
CLARA MULHOLLAND.
"This naughty child is positively delightful. Papas should not omit Naughty
Miss Bunny from their list of juvenile presents."-Land and Water.
Adventures of Mrs. Wishing-to-be, and other Stories.
By ALICE CORKRAN.
"Simply a charming book for little girls."-Saturday Review.
"Just in the style and spirit to win the hearts of children."- Daily News.
Our Dolly: Her Words and Ways. By MRS. R. H. READ.
"Prettily told and prettily illustrated."-Guardian.
"Sure to be a great favourite with young children."-School Guardian.
Fairy Fancy: What she Heard and Saw. By MRS. READ.
"All is pleasant, nice reading, with a little knowledge of natural history and
other matters gently introduced and divested of dryness."-Practical Teacher.


BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
27
BLACKIE'S EIGHTEENPENNY SERIES.
With Illustrations in Colour, and black and tint. In crown 8vo,
cloth elegant.
NEW VOLUMES.
The Seed She Sowed: A Tale of the Great Dock Strike.
By EMMA LESLIE.
The heroine, Winnie Chaplin, is an invalid girl who, though confined to
her room, finds a hundred opportunities of doing good and bringing
happiness to those around her. The difficulties which the poor have to
encounter, especially during great labour troubles, are strikingly depicted,
and the lessons of mutual help and self-sacrifice strongly enforced.
Unlucky: A Fragment of a Girl's Life. By CAROLINE Austin.
The young daughter of an Indian officer, brought up since her mother's
death by native attendants, suddenly finds herself no longer the only
object of her father's affection. Her stepmother and herself misunder-
stand each other hopelessly. In the end the child's natural goodness
enables her to conquer herself, and even to sacrifice her own life for her
stepmother.
Everybody's Business. By ISMAY THORN.
The little heroine, Loïs, is the good angel of a city court, who, when
driven out of the house by harsh treatment, finds a new home under the
care of an old shoemaker and his lame son. Then trouble comes; the
court is fever-stricken. Happily, when all seems at its worst, they are
cared for by a noble-hearted doctor, who places them in a pleasant coun-
try home.
Tales of Daring and Danger. By G. A. HENTY.
"Mr. Henty's heroes are brave and upright, quick and keen, and their doings
make capital reading for boys."-Athenæum.
"White-Faced Dick' is a sketch worthy of Bret Harte at his best. Just the
sort of tales to read aloud by the fireside on a winter's night."-Pract. Teacher.
Yarns on the Beach. By G. A. HENTY.
"Should find special favour among boys. The yarns are full of romance and
adventure, and are admirably calculated to foster a manly spirit."-The Echo.
The Seven Golden Keys. By JAMES E. ARNOLD.
"No better fairy book than this has come our way for a long time. It is written
with singular grace and skill; so perfect is the illusion, no child will doubt for
a moment that it is all a true story."-Christian Leader.
The Story of a Queen. By MARY C. ROWSELL.
"Miss Rowsell is an excellent story-teller; she is especially successful in
historical tales; her chronicle of Marie and her trials is thrilling."-Guardian.


28
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
BLACKIE'S EIGHTEENPENNY SERIES-Continued.
Joan's Adventures, At the North Pole and Elsewhere. By ALICE
CORKRAN.
"This is a most delightful fairy story. The charming style and easy prose
narrative makes its resemblance striking to Hans Andersen's."-Spectator.
Edwy: Or, Was He a Coward? By ANNETTE LYSTER.
"This is a charming story, and sufficiently varied to suit children of all ages.”
-The Academy.
Filled with Gold. By JENNIE PERRETT.
"The tale is interesting, and gracefully told. Miss Perrett's description of life
on the quiet Jersey farm will have a great charm."-Spectator.
The Battlefield Treasure. By F. BAYFORD HARRISON.
"Jack Warren is a lad of the Tom Brown type, and his search for treasure and
the sequel are sure to prove interesting to boys."- English Teacher.
By Order of Queen Maude: A Story of Home Life. By Louisa
CROW.
"The tale is brightly and cleverly told, and forms one of the best children's
books which the season has produced."-Academy.
Our General: A Story for Girls. By ELIZABETH J. LYSAGHT.
"A young girl of indomitable spirit, to whom all instinctively turn for guid-
ance-a noble pattern for girls."—Guardian.
Aunt Hesba's Charge. By ELIZABETH J. LYSAGHT.
"This well-written book tells how a maiden aunt is softened by the influence
of two Indian children who are unexpectedly left upon her hands."—Academy.
Into the Haven. By ANNIE S. Swan.
"No story more attractive, by reason of its breezy freshness, as well as for the
practical lessons it conveys."-Christian Leader.
Our Frank: and other Stories. By AMY WALTON.
"These stories are of the sort that children of the clever kind are sure to like."
-Academy.
The Late Miss Hollingford. By ROSA MULHOLLAND.
"No book for girls published this season approaches this in the charm of its
telling, which will be equally appreciated by persons of all ages."-Standard.
The Pedlar and His Dog. By MARY C. Rowsell.
"The opening chapter, with its description of Necton Fair, will forcibly remind
many readers of George Eliot. Taken altogether it is a delightful story."—
Western Morning News.
A Terrible Coward. By G. MANVILLE FENN.
"Just such a tale as boys will delight to read, and as they are certain to profit
by."-Aberdeen Journal.


BLACKIE & SONS BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
29
BLACKIE'S EIGHTEENPENNY SERIES—Continued.
Tom Finch's Monkey: and other Yarns. By J. C. HUTCHESON.
"Stories of an altogether unexceptionable character, with adventures sufficient
for a dozen books of its size."-U. Service Gazette.
Miss Grantley's Girls, and the Stories She Told Them. By
THOMAS ARCHER.
"For fireside reading more wholesome and highly entertaining reading for young
people could not be found."-Northern Chronicle.
Down and Up Again: Being some Account of the Felton Family,
and the Odd People they Met. By GREGSON Gow.
"The story is very neatly told, with some fairly dramatic incidents, and cal-
culated altogether to please young people."—Scotsman.
The Troubles and Triumphs of Little Tim. A City Story.
By GREGSON Gow.
"An undercurrent of sympathy with the struggles of the poor, and an ability
to describe their feelings, eminently characteristic of Dickens, are marked fea-
tures in Mr. Gow's story."--N. B. Mail.
The Happy Lad: A Story of Peasant Life in Norway. From the
Norwegian of Björnson.
"This pretty story has natural eloquence which seems to carry us back to some
of the love stories of the Bible."-Aberdeen Free Press.
The Patriot Martyr: and other Narratives of Female Heroism.
"It should be read with interest by every girl who loves to learn what her sex
can accomplish in times of danger."-Bristol Times.
Madge's Mistake: A Recollection of Girlhood. By ANNIE E.
ARMSTRONG.
"We cannot speak too highly of this delightful little tale. It abounds in
interesting and laughable incidents."-Bristol Times.
Box of Stories. Packed for Young Folk by HORACE HAPPYMAN.
When I was a Boy in China. By YAN PHOU LEE, a
native of China, now resident in the United States.
"Has been written not only by a Chinaman, but by a man of culture. His
book is as interesting to adults as it is to children."-The Guardian.
THE ILLUSTRATIONS THROUGHOUT PRINTED IN COLOURS.
4TO, ONE SHILLING EACH.
GORDON BROWNE'S SERIES OF
OLD FAIRY TALES.
1. HOP O' MY THUMB.
2. BEAUTY AND THE BEAST.
Each book contains 32 pages 4to, and is illustrated on every page
by Pictures printed in colours.


30
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
THE SHILLING SERIES OF BOOKS
FOR YOUNG PEOPLE.
Square 16mo, neatly bound in cloth extra.
128 pages and a Coloured Illustration.
NEW VOLUMES.
Each book contains
Freda's Folly: or, The Guest at Dysart Manor. By M. S. HAYCRAFT.
Philip Danford: A Story of School Life. By JULIA GODDARD.
The Youngest Princess: or, Little Means to Big Ends. By JENNIE CHAPPELL.
Arthur's Temptation: or, A Bad Beginning. By EMMA LESLIE.
A Change for the Worse: or, The Lesson of a Day. By HARRIET M. CAPES.
Our Two Starlings. By CHRISTIAN REDFORD.
Mr. Lipscombe's Apples. By JULIA
GODDARD.
Gladys: Or, The Sister's Charge. By
E. O'BYRNE.
A Gypsy against Her Will.
EMMA LESLIE.
By
The Castle on the Shore. By ISA-
BEL HORNIBROOK.
An Emigrant Boy's Story. By
ASCOTT R. HOPE.
Jock and his Friend. By CORA
LANGTON.
John a' Dale. By MARY C. ROWSELL.
In the Summer Holidays. By JEN-
NETT HUMPHREYS.
How the Strike Began. By EMMA
LESLIE.
Tales from the Russian of Madame
Kubalensky. By G. JENNER.
Cinderella's Cousin, and Other
Stories. By PENELOPE.
Their New Home. By ANNIE S.
FENN.
Janie's Holiday. By C. REDFORD.
A Boy Musician: or, The Young Days
of Mozart.
Hatto's Tower. By MARY C. ROW-
SELL.
Fairy Lovebairn's Favourites. By
J. DICKINSON.
Alf Jetsam: or, Found Afloat. By
Mrs. GEORGE CUPPLES.
The Redfords: An Emigrant Story.
By Mrs. GEORGE CUPPLES.
Missy. By F. BAYFORD HARRISON.
Hidden Seed: or, A Year in a Girl's
Life. By EMMA LESLIE.
Ursula's Aunt. By ANNIE S. FENN.
Jack's Two Sovereigns. By ANNIE
S. FENN.
A Little Adventurer: or, How Tommy
Trefit went to look for his Father.
By GREGSON GOW.
Olive Mount. By ANNIE S. FENN.
Three Little Ones: Their Haps and
Mishaps. By C. LANGTON.
Tom Watkins' Mistake. By EMMA
LESLIE.
Two Little Brothers. By M. HAR-
RIET M. CAPES.
The New Boy at Merriton.
JULIA GODDARD.
By
The Children of Haycombe. By
ANNIE S. FENN.
The Cruise of the "Petrel." By
F. M. HOLMES.
The Wise Princess. By M. HARRIET
M. CAPES.
The Blind Boy of Dresden and
his Sister.
Jon of Iceland: A Story of the Far
North.
Stories from Shakespeare.
Every Man in his Place: or, A City
Boy and a Forest Boy.
Fireside Fairies and
Flower
Fancies. Stories for Girls.
To the Sea in Ships: Stories of Suf-
fering and Saving at Sea.
Jack's Victory: and other Stories
about Dogs.
Story of a King, told by one of his
Soldiers.
Prince Alexis, or, "BEAUTY AND THE
BEAST."
Little Daniel: A Story of a Flood on
the Rhine.
Sasha the Serf: and other Stories of
Russian Life.
True Stories of Foreign History.


BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR CHILDREN.
31
THE NINEPENNY SERIES OF BOOKS FOR
CHILDREN.
Neatly bound in cloth extra. Each contains 96 pages and a Coloured
Illustration.
NEW VOLUMES.
Cross Purposes, and The Shadows. By Dr. GEORGE MAC DONALD.
Patty's Ideas, and What Came of Them. By L. E. TIDDEMAN.
Daphne: A Story of Self-conquest. By E. O'BYRNE.
Lily and Rose in One. By CECILIA SELBY LOWNDES.
Crowded Out: or, The Story of Lil's Patience. By M. B. MANWELL.
Tom in a Tangle, and other Stories. By T. SPARROW.
Things will Take a Turn. By
BEATRICE HARRADEN.
The Lost Thimble. By Mrs. MUS-
GRAVE.
Max or Baby. By ISMAY THORN.
Jack-a-Dandy. By E. J. LYSAGHT.
A Day of Adventures.
LOTTE WYATT.
The Golden Plums.
CLARE.
By CHAR-
By FRANCIS
The Queen of Squats. By ISABEL
HORNIBROOK.
Shucks: A Story for Boys. By EMMA
LESLIE.
Sylvia Brooke. By M. HARRIET M.
CAPES.
The Little Cousin. By A. S. FENN.
In Cloudland. By Mrs. MUSGRAVE.
Jack and the Gypsies. By KATE
WOOD.
Hans the Painter. By MARY C.
ROWSELL.
Little Troublesome.
HORNIBROOK.
By ISABEL
My Lady May: and One Other Story.
By HARRIET BOULTWOOD.
A Little Hero.
GRAVE.
By Mrs. MUS-
By
Prince Jon's Pilgrimage.
JESSIE FLEMING.
Harold's Ambition: or, A Dream of
Fame. By JENNIE PERRETT.
Sepperl the Drummer Boy. By
MARY C. ROWSELL.
Aboard the Mersey.
GEORGE CUPPLES.
By Mrs.
A Blind Pupil. By ANNIE S. FENN.
Lost and Found. By Mrs. CARL
ROTHER.
Fisherman Grim. By MARY C.
ROWSELL.
"The same good character pervades all these books. They are admirably
adapted for the young. The lessons deduced are such as to mould children's
minds in a good groove. We cannot too highly commend them for their excel-
lence."-Schoolmistress.
SOMETHING FOR THE VERY LITTLE ONES.
Fully Illustrated. 64 pp., 32mo, cloth. Sixpence each.
Tales Easy and Small for the Youngest of All. In no word will you see more
letters than three. By JENNETT HUMPHREYS.
Old Dick Grey and Aunt Kate's Way. Stories in little words of not more than
four letters. By JENNETT HUMPHREYS.
Maud's Doll and Her Walk. In Picture and Talk. In little words of not
more than four letters. By JENNETT HUMPHREYS.
In Holiday Time. And other Stories. In little words of not more than five
letters. By JENNETT HUMPHREYS.
Whisk and Buzz. By Mrs. A. H. GARLICK.


32
BLACKIE & SON'S BOOKS FOR CHILDREN.
THE SIXPENNY SERIES FOR CHILDREN.
Neatly bound in cloth extra. Each contains 64 pages and a Coloured Cut.
By L. E. TIDDEMAN.
By AMY WALTON.
By LOUISA THOMPSON.
By Mrs. GARLICK.
From over the Sea.
The Kitchen Cat.
The Royal Eagle.
Two Little Mice.
A Little Man of War. By L. E.
TIDDEMAN.
Lady Daisy. By CAROLINE STEWART.
Dew. By H. MARY WILSON.
Chris's Old Violin. By J. LOCKHART.
Mischievous Jack. By A. CORKRAN.
The Twins. By L. E. TIDDEMAN.
Pet's Project. By CORA LANGTON.
The Chosen Treat. By C. WYATT.
Little Neighbours. By A. S. FENN.
Jim: A Story of Child Life. By CHRIS-
TIAN BURKE.
Little Curiosity: or, A German Christ-
mas. By J. M. CALLWELL.
Sara the Wool-gatherer. By W. L.
ROOPER.
Fairy Stories: told by PENELOPE.
A New Year's Tale. By M. A. CURRIE.
Little Mop. By Mrs. CHARLES BRAY.
The Tree Cake: and other Stories.
By W. L. ROOPER.
Nurse Peggy, and Little Dog Trip.
Fanny's King. By DARLEY DALE.
Wild Marsh Marigolds. By D. DALE.
Kitty's Cousin. By HANNAH B.
MACKENZIE.
Cleared at Last. By JULIA GOD-
DARD.
Little Dolly Forbes. By ANNIE S.
FENN.
Year with Nellie. By A. S. FENN.
The Little Brown Bird.
The Maid of Domremy: and other
Tales.
Little Eric: a Story of Honesty.
Uncle Ben the Whaler.
The Palace of Luxury.
The Charcoal Burner.
Willy Black: A Story of Doing Right.
The Horse and His Ways.
The Shoemaker's Present.
Lights to Walk by.
The Little Merchant.
Nicholina: A Story about an Iceberg.
"A very praiseworthy series of Prize Books. Most of the stories are designed
to enforce some important moral lesson, such as honesty, industry, kindness,
helpfulness."-School Guardian.
A SERIES OF FOURPENNY REWARD BOOKS.
Each 64 pages, 18mo, Illustrated, in Picture Boards.
A Start in Life. By J. LOCKHART.
Happy Childhood. By AIMÉE DE
VENOIX DAWSON.
Dorothy's Clock. By Do.
Toddy. By L. E. TIDDEMAN.
Stories about my Dolls. By FELICIA
MELANCTHON.
Stories about my Cat Timothy.
Delia's Boots. By W. L. ROOPER.
Lost on the Rocks. By R. SCOTTER.
A Kitten's Adventures. By CARO-
LINE STEWART.
Holidays at Sunnycroft. By ANNIE
S. SWAN.
Climbing the Hill. By Do.
A Year at Coverley. By Do.
Phil Foster. By J. LOCKHART.
Papa's Birthday. By W. L. ROOPER.
The Charm Fairy. By PENELOPE.
Little Tales for Little Children.
By M. A. CURRIE.
Worthy of Trust. By H. B. MAC-
KENZIE.
Brave and True. By GREGSON GOW.
Johnnie Tupper's Temptation. Do.
Maudie and Bertie. Do.
The Children and the Water-Lily.
By JULIA GODDARD.
Poor Tom Olliver. By Do.
Fritz's Experiment.
M'LINTOCK.
Lucy's Christmas-Box.
BLACKIE & SON, LIMITED,
By LETITIA
LONDON, GLASGOW, EDINBURGH, AND DUBLIN.


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