bled as if with speech, but she made no
reply, and only shrunk further away when I attempted to approach her;
and at length, moving aside from the path, she was lost to sight in the
dusky leafage.

I went on alone, and sat outside for some time, until old Nuflo returned
from his hunting; and only after he had gone in and had made the fire
burn up did Rima make her appearance, silent and constrained as ever.

CHAPTER X

On the following day Rima continued in the same inexplicable humour; and
feeling my defeat keenly, I determined once more to try the effect of
absence on her, and to remain away on this occasion for a longer period.
Like old Nuflo, I was secret in going forth next morning, waiting until
the girl was out of the way, then slipping off among the bushes into
the deeper wood; and finally quitting its shelter, I set out across the
savannah towards my old quarters. Great was my surprise on arriving
at the village to find no person there. At first I imagined that my
disappearance in the forest of evil fame had caused them to abandon
their home in a panic; but on looking round I concluded that my friends
had only gone on one of their periodical visits to some neighbouring
village. For when these Indians visit their neighbours they do it in a
very thorough manner; they all go, taking with them their entire stock
of provisions, their cooking utensils, weapons, hammocks, and even
their pet animals. Fortunately in this case they had not taken quite
everything; my hammock was there, also one small pot, some cassava
bread, purple potatoes, and a few ears of maize. I concluded that these
had been left for me in the event of my return; also that they had not
been gone very many hours, since a log of wood buried under the ashes
of the hearth was still alight. Now, as their absences from home usually
last many days, it was plain that I would have the big naked barn-like
house to myself for as long as I thought proper to remain, with little
food to eat; but the prospect did not disturb me, and I resolved to
amuse myself with music. In vain I hunted for my guitar; the Indians
had taken it to delight their friends by twanging its strings. At odd
moments during the last day or two I had been composing a simple melody
in my brain, fitting it to ancient words; and now, without an instrument
to assist me, I began softly singing to myself:

Muy mas clara que la luna
Sola una
en el mundo vos nacistes.

After m