ident embarrassment, and
refused to discuss the topic further.

"Lord Harry!" ejaculated Harris, pondering the cryptical remark, "you
surely are a queer little dud!"

But the girl turned from him to Rosendo. He understood her. Nor would
she permit the old man to leave her until, late that night, exhausted
by the excitement of the day, she dropped asleep in the house of Don
Nicolas, on the muddy margin of the river Boque, still clinging to
Rosendo's hand.

Despite the protestations of Don Nicolas and the pleading of the
_cargadores_, Rosendo stolidly refused to spend a day at Boque.
Apprehension lashed him furiously on. They were still within reach of
the federal authorities. He dared not rest until the jungle had
swallowed them.

"Ah, _compadre_," said Don Nicolas, in disappointment, "I would like
much for you to enjoy my house while it is still clean. For the ants
have visited me. _Hombre_! they swarmed down upon us but a day ago.
They came out of the bush in millions, straight for the house. We
fled. _Caramba_! had we remained, we should have been eaten alive. But
they swept the house--_Hombre_! no human hands could have done so
well. Every spider, every rat, beetle, flea, every plague, was
instantly eaten, and within a half hour they had disappeared again,
and we moved back into a thoroughly cleaned house!"

Harris stood with mouth agape in mute astonishment when Carmen, whom
he had constituted his interpreter, translated to him the story.

That evening, after they had eaten out in the open before the house,
and the Americans had tickled the palates of the villagers with some
tinned beef of uncertain quality, Don Nicolas approached Reed.
"Senor," he said, "my mother, now very aged, is sick, and we think she
can not recover. But you Americanos are wonderfully skilled, and your
medicines powerful. Have you not some remedy in your pack that will
alleviate the good woman's sufferings? They are severe, senor."

Reed knew how great was the faith of these simple people in the wisdom
of the American, and he had reason to wish to preserve it. But he had
come into that country illy prepared to cope with disease, and his
medical equipment contained nothing but quinine. He reflected a
moment, then turned to Harris.

"Did you smuggle any of your beloved root-beer extract into the
equipment?" he inquired, his eyes twinkling.

Harris looked sheepish, but returned a sullen affirmative.

"Well," continued Reed, "dig out