Pedro, turning quickly to Lawrence, "you had better
look after rooms and order supper, while I take Manuela to the villa."

For the first time since they met, Lawrence felt inclined to disobey his
friend. A gush of indignation seemed to surge through his bosom for a
moment, but before he could reply, Pedro, who did not expect a reply,
had turned away. He remounted his steed and rode off, meekly followed
by the Indian girl. Quashy took the bridles of his own and his master's
horse, and stood awaiting orders; while Spotted Tiger, who was not
altogether inexperienced in the ways of towns, led his animal and the
baggage-mules round to the stables.

"So," thought Lawrence, bitterly, "I am ordered to look after things
here, and Manuela goes quietly away without offering to say good-bye--
without even a friendly nod, although she probably knows I may have to
start by daybreak to-morrow, and shall never see her again. Bah! what
else could I expect from a squaw--a black girl! But no matter. It's
all over! It was _only_ her spirit I admired, and I don't care even for
that now."

It will be observed that our poor hero did not speak like himself here,
so grievous was the effect of his disappointment. Fortunately he did
not speak at all, but only muttered and looked savage, to the amusement
of the sportsman, who stood leaning against the door-post of the inn,
regarding him with much interest.

"Will you sup, senhor?" asked a waiter, coming up just then.

"Eh! no--that is--yes," replied Lawrence, savagely.

"How many, senhor?"

"How many? eh! How should I know? As many as you like. Come here."

He thundered off along a passage, clanking his heels and spurs like a
whole regiment of dragoons, and without an idea as to whither the
passage led or what he meant to do.

"Aw--quite a wemarkable cweature. A sort of--aw--long-legged curiosity
of the Andes. Mad, I suppose, or drunk."

These remarks were partly a soliloquy, partly addressed to a friend who
had joined the sportsman, but they were overheard by Quashy, who, with
the fire of a free negro and the enthusiasm of a faithful servant,
said--

"No more mad or drunk dan you'self--you whitefaced racoon!"

Being unable conveniently to commit an assault at the moment, our free
negro contented himself with making a stupendous face at the Englishman,
and glaring defiance as he led the cattle away. As the reader knows,
that must have been a powerful glare, but its on