er than I
had expected, Senhor Armstrong."

"Indeed? I hope it has been satisfactorily accomplished."

"Well, yes, as far as it goes. The fact is, I find that there has been
a raid of the Indians into this part of the country, and a body of
troops has been sent to quell them under Colonel Marchbanks. Now this
colonel, as his name will suggest, is an Englishman, in the service of
the Argentine army, under whose orders I have been serving, and to
communicate with whom was one of my chief reasons for undertaking this
journey."

"Will that, then, render your journey to Buenos Ayres unnecessary?"
asked Lawrence, a slight feeling of anxiety creeping over him.

"No, it won't do that, but it will greatly modify my plans. Among other
things, it will oblige me to leave Manuela behind and push on alone as
fast as possible. I suppose you will have no objection to a tearing
gallop of several hundred miles over the Pampas?" said Pedro, while a
smile of peculiar meaning played for an instant on his handsome face.

"Objections!" exclaimed our hero, with great energy, "of course not. A
tearing gallop over the Pampas is--a--most--"

He stopped, for a strange, unaccountable feeling of dissatisfaction
which he could not understand began to overwhelm him. Was it that he
was really in love after all with this Indian girl, and that the thought
of final separation from her--impossible! No, he could not credit such
an idea for a moment. But he loved her spirit--her soul, as it were--
and he could not be blamed for being so sorry, so very sorry, to part
with _that_ thus suddenly--thus unexpectedly. Yes, he was _not_ in
love. It was a fraternal or paternal--a Platonic feeling of a strong
type. He would just see her once more, alone, before starting, say
good-bye, and give her a little, as it were, paternal, or fraternal, or
Platonic advice.

"Senhor Armstrong is in a meditative mood," said Pedro, breaking the
thread of his meditations.

"Yes, I was thinking--was wondering--that is--by the way, with whom will
you leave Manuela?"

"With a friend who lives in a villa in the suburbs."

"You seem to have friends wherever you go," said Lawrence.

"Ay, and enemies too," returned Pedro with a slight frown. "However,
with God's blessing, I shall circumvent the latter."

"When do you start?" asked Lawrence, with an air of assumed
indifference.

"To-morrow or next day, perhaps, but I cannot tell until I meet Colonel
Marchbanks.